


Sherlock: The Impossible Case

by Soron66



Category: Castle (TV) RPF, Constantine (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soron66/pseuds/Soron66
Summary: Sherlock is called in by Athena to solve an important case. The Winchester brothers side reluctantly with the demigods and the Gods of multiple pantheons. Will evil win this time? Or will Good? Written and Edited by DragonFire1207 from Fanfiction.net & Soron66.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> the chapters are going to be very spaced out because my colleague in this story is busy quite a bit of things and she always plans things out for stories. this one and chapter one will be uploaded near the same time cause we already finished those. i'm bringing some of my better stories here.

Prologue

 

“I want you to destroy the demigods and bring me their souls,” commanded a bodiless voice to a man dressed in ragged clothes. The clothes looked like they were from the Victorian era. His hat was long gone. His black polished shoes were splattered with his own blood, they were barely recognizable after his tortures. After all his time in Hell, he was just skin and bones. The man was in chains, he dangled mere feet above a thousand spinning blades promising a painful death below. Every day he was dropped into the pit and ripped apart by the blades as the eternal punishment for the crimes he committed while he was alive.

“What’s in it for me?” asked the man with a hoarse Geordie accent. After all those centuries of yelling and pleading for help his voice was painfully dry.

“You will become immortal,” it paused giving the pathetic mortal time to contemplate it’s generosity, “and you get to kill as many as you want along the way.” 

“Immortal?” the prisoner asked before grinning maniacally, “You got yourself a deal whatever you are.” 

**Meanwhile, in the Underworld...**

Hades was having dinner with his son wishing for winter to arrive, he rather missed his wife. Not to say that he did not enjoy the talking to Nico. He has missed talking to his children. In the past, Hades tried to avoid it as much as possible to avoid the inevitable heartbreak when they died and he had to oversee their reward or punishment.

“Can you pass me the salt, Nico,” Hades asked enjoying the simple interactions with his son. He was still trying to stifle a laugh from the story Nico told of the pranks of Leo and the Stoll brother. Their exploits could only end in disaster, though a hilarious disaster in some cases as he just learned from Nico.

Nico stretched out his hand as he passed the salt to Hades. In that moment Hades felt odd, his eyes flashed, he felt cheated. In trying to sort out what’s wrong he dropped the salt on the table. The grains of salt rained on the table. The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Hades waved his hand to clear the salt off the table. It’s bad luck to spill salt. 

“Seems like there is trouble in Hell. Do you happen to know if Thanatos went out for his rounds yet?” Hades asked his son as he started to get out of his chair.

“He’s always on his rounds,” Nico looked at his dad, “Are you okay, you seem-”

“I am fine, I’ll have to reschedule dinner. Though on the topic of Will, I approve,” Hades declared, interrupting Nico. His speech was rushed, he tried to take care of the important matter and in result agitated his son. 

Nico paled, “how did you know?” he stammered rubbing his neck. He was meaning to talk to his dad about that time in the conversation when he asked about his relationships. For some reason Will wanted to meet with his dad, the god of the dead, most did not make that request casually. Usually dinner with the god of the dead was unnerving with the souls swirling in this robes, and the gloomy atmosphere and fields of the dead. It was strange acting normal after all the years of the gods avoiding their children, all of a sudden those norms were flipped. 

“After Gaea went back to sleep I had more time to myself,” he recalls and then muttered to himself, “and Persephone may have told me to start being a real dad to you.” Hades left out the part where he could not bear losing another child. Nico deserved a long and happy life not having to meet the judges  of the Underworld to be judged so soon. 

“Where are you going?” Nico asks confused by his sudden restlessness. The last time he saw him this restless was during the last crisis. He knew there were still trouble in the Greek world but everyone thought it was finally time for some peace, apparently not.

“I have to talk to my brother. Seems like the world just cannot stay quiet for long. I will see you later, son. It was nice to talk to you.” Hades grabbed his tablet off the kitchen table and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

**In the world of the living,**

A figure of a woman can be seen stalking in the night. Her footsteps are quiet, her heart, on the other hand, was not. It hammers in her chest cavity as she tries to calm herself before she goes into shock. What are the chances, the wrong place, the wrong time to be taking a walk near the park. Why couldn’t she just drink a glass of water like normal people? No point worrying now, there is little chance of going out of this one. 

Suddenly, Anne heard a growl and she almost sobbed. After Gaea was put back to sleep she thought her forces would disperse but some still haven’t. Some still stalked in packs and after they split up one of them shot her. They got smarter, using mortal weapons: harmless to monsters but deadly to demigods.  

She was really having a bad day, first the hellhound incident now this, she seemed to keep popping up on the monster’s dining menu. She could practically imagine how that thing will tear her limb from limb. Besides that she was still attempting to avoid going into shock from the bullet in her leg. Why didn’t she look to check if she still had ambrosia in her purse before she headed out?  

She slowly slid down against a wall. No point in moving it already has her scent, she either waits it out or needs to kill it. Anne then tried to take a deep breath. People in the movies take the bullet out right? If only Camp Half Blood taught how to remove bullets the same way they taught how to fight with blades. She wasn’t prepared for this. Maybe-

“Hey, are you okay?” a soft voice asked in an odd accent. 

She almost sobs in relief, maybe she can get out of this after all. She tried to speak, “I-I’m- I’ve been shot in the leg. Th-The-There someth-someone out there. I think a robber down that street,” she pointed momentarily and took one hand off alleviating the pressure on her leg. “C-ca-can you call an a-ambu-ambulance? Please, my hands-” she looked down and drew attention to her blood-covered hands.  

“Of course, dear, just keep pressure on the wound. Don’t try to pull out the bullet you might just cause more damage,” He said quietly pressing some buttons on his phone. He turned around for one second, probably to get the street name, and Anne quickly tried to shove the bronze dagger back into her dagger sleeve. She specifically ripped her pocket to give her access to the dagger strapped to her thigh. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him or the medics to see it. The bullet wound burns as she accidently moved her left leg, trying to take off the sheath on the right leg. She saw the man was still telling her what to do with the wound as she ripped the sheath from her extended jean pocket to her boot. 

No reason to make them think she’s part of a gang or something. The less questions the better. If they rip her jeans at least they might not notice the extra fabric for a dagger to hide. The man then turned around as she put her hand back on the wound. 

“How long?” she asked trying to cover up her sleight of hand. Hopefully he didn’t notice her hide the dagger. 

“Not long” he said as he knelt down and with one smooth move took her dagger out of her boot and slits her throat. If she wasn’t so worried about not bleeding out and going into shock she would have noticed that the growling stopped a minute before the man came to her. As she bled out she saw him open a pouch and feels rather than sees power vibrating, flowing into it. 

**Some time later, in London, England**

Athena sat on a bench near 221B Baker Street. She really should not be doing this but even parents have their favorites and so did she. This was the perfect opportunity to test out just how good Sherlock Holmes was. Well yes, and John Watson but she is a proud mother and her interest in her child was greater. He really has made a name for himself. On his adventures, he solved most of the cases that he has encountered. There is still room for improvement but he must be ready by now. An adult demigod who had made it to adulthood is quite significant. If only it was on his own merit. No one can blame her for trying to protect that lovely brain of his.

Now that brilliant brain is needed to track down the one person who has spoiled the peace that the Olympians were oh so enjoying. For once they were talking to their children, would you believe that. A god attending her daughter’s graduation. In some months she is scheduled to be at another child’s graduation, valedictorian as expected. 

As John exited the building heading towards the hospital, she quickly got up and started walking towards door number 221B. She used the knocker to make her presence known and waited for an answer. A women, Mrs. Hudson, Athena presumed, opened the door and after she said her business she was ushered in. 

“Sherlock, there is a woman here to see you! A Mrs. Olympia on the matter of a case,” shouted Mrs. Hudson to Sherlock as she led Athena up the stairs.

“Tell her to come back later,” Sherlock shouted from his room, “I am working on a case right now!”

“You are always working on a case, yet you still manage to take on one more,” said a frustrated Mrs. Hudson as she arrived at Sherlock’s entrance to his flat.

“This case is one of my old unfinished cases,” Sherlock scoffed as he sat on the floor with his legs crossed while staring at a bunch of papers on the floor, “I am very close to solving this one. I can feel it!”

“So which one is it?” Mrs. Hudson inquired kindly as she leaned on the door.

“John called it ‘A Sign of Four’,” Sherlock replied before closing his eyes and added, “Go and be the good hostess. I am going to enter my mind palace. I will meet with the new client when I am done.”

“She says she cannot wait, she has urgent business to attend to.” Mrs Hudson explained to Sherlock. 

“Fine,” Sherlock grunted in annoyance, “They all say it’s urgent. However since this case has been an ongoing case of mine for a long time I suppose one hour longer is acceptable.”

Mrs Hudson showed Athena into the flat and Sherlock pulls up a chair for her to sit in. Athena stood by the door waiting for Sherlock’s instructions, he was rather particular in his mindset, everything must be just so. 

“Would you like some tea?” Mrs Hudson asks sweetly. She was very kind amongst Sherlock’s rather abrupt nature.

“No thank you, I am in a quiet a hurry,” Athena politely declines trying to show to Sherlock she understands his impatience. It would be easier to ask him to take on her case if he saw her as an intellectual equal, though little does he know she is the very goddess of wisdom herself. No one surpassed her in intelligence, other than Zeus, according to custom, or at least she allows him believe that.

“Before you enter,” Sherlock said while he sat down in his comfy chair near the fireplace, “Make sure to NOT step on the papers on the floor. They are pertinent to the case I was working on. When you sit in the chair, we will begin.”

Athena walked to the chair in the middle of the room, trying to avoid the papers scattered across the room like a minefield. She was quite sure Sherlock might just blow up like an explosive. The burden of knowledge, she saw, he did not handle well. He was created from thought and his mind raced as fast as them as well. Unfortunately mortal minds are not built for the knowledge of gods. It is sad that he resorted to substances to assist him in thinking every now and then. 

“Now then,” Sherlock began once Athena had sat down, “What troubles you? Judging from the look of your hair you’re not worried you’re being cheated on. In fact you’re not even married since you don’t have the crease a wedding ring would give you. You wear casual clothes which are neat indicating it’s not very urgent at all. If your business was urgent your clothes would be dishevelled and there’d be wrinkles. Maybe even some rips. Obviously you think highly of yourself judging by your posture. That may be due to your profession. Maybe a police officer from your practical clothes and ready stance. On the other hand, maybe a professor? You have a teacher’s gaze, that ‘I know all’ look, if you don’t mind me saying. Now you may talk.” He ended his speech with a wave of his hand, like a conductor, her signal to speak. He really was an old soul.  

“Well done, though how can you guess I was not sure to choose my clothing carefully enough to mislead you?” Athena inquired, she stifled a smile as she tested him. His assumptions were abrupt and jumped from the vaguest and barest of details to sudden conclusions which were one amongst many. If he was not of godly blood, one would consider him mad. For a person who holds himself to not understand human nature he really can spot the patterns well. Too bad she was not human, little did he know. 

“Simple,” Sherlock said, “Even someone trying to mislead me would have a telltale sign. The most obvious that the farce does not match your personality and the way you would hold yourself, and would therefore be awkward. Another sign could be a lose thread near the buttons of the clothes from them being forced to enter the buttonholes tearing the stitching, which would indicate urgency. It could also be your hair having a slight strand of hair sticking up at an odd angle from the speed of the brushing. On the other hand, an excess use of hair and beauty products would indicate an anxiety and urgence to show a certain angle of oneself. Another telltale sign, your clothes would’ve been too neat and orderly. For a women those would be the usual telltale signs. Now make me believe it’s urgent and tell me why you’re here.”

**Some weeks later, in Camp Half-Blood…**

The demigods were preparing for capture the flag. They chose their armor, grabbed their weapons and assembled by the woods. The two teams had prepared their battle strategies and were both confident of their victory. 

Chiron stepped forward and announced the rules as usual, “Since you all know the rules I will keep this short. All previous rules apply, and for the newcomers I advise for you all to avoid the Labyrinth access areas. Councillors, please make sure the rules are followed. Let’s make sure the game ends before sundown shall we? Now, to arms!”

Throughout the crowd the team leaders started calling their teams to order. The Athena cabin was on the blue team and their councilor lead the group. The Ares team, as by tradition, was on the red team making remarks as they their team ran to the north-west to set up their flag. The Hephaestus cabin was on the blue team and one of them made a quick joke at the red team.  

“Blue team, on me.” Malcolm gestured with his one arm, the other held his grappling hook, “We will set up our post according to out prior plans.” The group divided most going to Zeus’s fist to set up a decoy defense. Another part of the group were sent as offence to acquire the red team’s flag. A few were left to patrol. The rest were sent to hide the flag in a thicker part of the woods. Time to see if their strategy will work. 

The red team, on the other hand, wasn’t going on defense. They placed their flag near the Myrmekes hill and a handful of guards in the area to guard it. A few were sent to patrol. The rest were on the offence trying to capture the blue’s teams flag. 

In the shadows, hidden from the demigods stood a man decked in black clothes waiting for his opportunity to divide and conquer. While the demigods play their game, he will play his own. 

After the game, a camper was found dead in the woods. Everyone was distraught but assumed it was due to the Myrmekes as indicated by the wounds. In the shadows a figure camped out in the woods happily cleaning his knife after a job well done.

**Later that week in New York,**

Hunters have spread rumors of an organised demigod encampment somewhere in the state of New York. Eventually a hunter came forward who claimed to know exactly where it was. He seemed like an amateur, but if his information was solid it won’t matter. All that matters was that they find the encampment and dismantle it. According to him it will require a lot of hunters as there is roughly thirty demigods at the camp.

That’s why Sam and Dean drove to New York to talk to the hunter. The journey was long but they hoped it was worthwhile. A demigod encampment is not something hunters encounter everyday. 

“It seems pretty sketchy. He could be making it up for attention,” Dean said as they arrived at New York.

“That’s why we’re going to the bar he was last seen at,” Sam replied before the silence resumed while Sam looked at Dean in concern; Dean hasn’t been the same ever since Cas was killed by the Devil. Sam worried that Dean was trying to use that aggression against every monster they encounter. If he kept that up he might eventually get himself killed from his recklessness. 

When the brothers arrived, they exited the impala without a word before they headed towards the bar’s entrance. As the brothers entered the bar everyone seemed to turn to look at them. The Dean soon realized that there seem to be quite a few hunters. One even had his tattoo showing, clearly to protect from demonic possession. Another seemed to be playing with her knife, checking for scratches. Sam went straight for the bar and asked the bartender to pour him a glass. 

“You’re one of the Winchesters right?” the bartender quizzed as he poured a glass of liquor.

“That’s right,” Sam answered as the bartender gave him the glass,“ Anyway, down to business. Have you seen seen a guy who goes by the name of Marco Ultio ?” He was not at all surprised that people knew their name after all the trouble they caused and solved. This just made it easier for other hunters to know they mean business, not bad a bad thing when gathering information.

“Nope,” the bartender replied shrugging his shoulders, “Never saw a guy by that name. Saw plenty of Micheals, Samanthas, but no Marcos today, try later in the day.” 

“Dang,” Sam said as he took a sip of his drink, “What about the man that has brought all these hunters here?” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” the bartender said as he frowned, “These hunters are being unusually quiet. Almost as if they’re planning to go to war or something. If they are, I’m getting the hell out of dodge if you catch my drift.” From some of the pictures behind a the bar, it’s clear he had family to take care of. He had them standing in some photos with some famous people. It’s clear from the kids’ faces that he’s their father, and from the smiling woman that she’s his wife. 

“An encampment of demigods is a pretty big deal, don’t you think?” Sam remarked. 

“I wouldn’t know, not my business,” the bartender said, “Never been on a hunt in my life. I may like the business but I don’t like the trouble. I was there during a few of the crises a while back. Just a bystander, but I saw some shit not even the devil would believe.” Then bartender wiped the table, probably a habit, hadn't noticed he was doing it. 

“Then I have a feeling we should talk somewhere privately,” Sam said as he narrowed his eyes, “I have a feeling you have a personal opinion of the demigods that the hunters won’t like.”

While Sam was talking to the bartender, Dean had chatted up a hunter at a booth. 

“Hey there beautiful, come here often?” The blonde-haired woman didn’t even bother turning around. Her eyes went to her glass, she glanced at the reflection.

She rolled her eyes, “What do you want Winchester?” She didn’t even bother to give her name, she had other plans for today no need for a Winchester to find her later. In her dark clothes and weapons in her bag, she was dressed for a hunt. 

“So you know who I am?” Dean asked haughtily. 

“Everyone at this bar probably knows who you are, not just the hunters,” She said sickeningly sweet. 

“All good things I hope,” Dean said. 

“Not really, you have a thing for starting trouble. Like the time you started the apocalypse.” She tilted her head as if asking for him to contradict her.

“Well…That…was an accident.” Dean looked around, seeing his brother he was reminded why he was there in the first place, “So do you know where this Ultio guy is. Claims to know where a bunch of demigods are camped out.” Down to business then.

“Not much, haven’t talked to him yet, I like to do my own digging. He didn’t seem like a reputable source. Know barely anything about him, seems relatively new, maybe changed his name at least once. Wondering what he’s really up to. He supposedly had a few men already prepared for a strike team. He’s still looking for volunteers though. Heard he came by the bar around 6, and that would be him,” her eyes flickered behind Dean to a figure near the doorway. 

“New huh,” Dean said as he narrowed his eyes, “I’d have to agree with your instincts. No way a rookie could find a whole encampment of demigods quick just by dumb luck.”

“Winchester, I presume” the man inquired as he walked up to Dean.

“Everyone seems to know my name,” Dean grumbled before looking up at the man and replied, “Who wants to know? Did I kill a hunter buddy of yours or something? Maybe I boned your sister and you want payback? Also, what is a British hunter like you doing in America? You should be following your Men of Letters master’s orders.” 

“Irish actually, and things seem to be more flexible here in America, thought I would give it a try,” replied Ultio with an untrustworthy look in his eyes.

“Here’s a thought,” Dean said as he stood up and looked him straight in the eyes, “You’re bluffing. We don’t want you here. Go back to London and you just might make it back in time for tea and biscuits.” 

“How does a rookie, such as yourself, find a whole encampment of demigods so easily?” the female hunter asked as she joined in on the conversation. 

“You don’t believe me? I could show you, me and the team are going out tonight to scout the area. There’s plenty of demigods to go around,” Ultio pointed out his small group of hunters that had assembled at the back booth of the bar. 

“You know what?” Dean said, “I’ll pass. As much as I’d love to go kill something right now, I have no desire to get involved in a massacre.” He might be up for a hunt but even he knew the odds of hunters coming back from a fight with demigods. He wasn’t that reckless.

“Suit yourself, just thought the  _ great  _ Winchesters would want a piece of the action,” Ultio sneered. He clearly didn’t think much of the Winchesters if his sarcastic tone is anything to go by. There was something odd about him too. From his expression throughout the discussion the reason why anyone wouldn’t trust him is evident, he doesn’t seem like a man that would get his hands dirty. He seems like a thinker, like Sam though more of the criminal variety.

“Nah, we know when something is a death trap. Best of luck fellas,” Dean turned and walked away, he waved a hand mockingly in the process. There are plenty of other cases for them to take, no need to team up with this amateur. Dean nodded at Sam before he walked out of the bar to his ‘67 Chevy Impala.

**A few days later in Camp Half Blood,**

The demigods were going about their daily business. The lava wall was spewing lava as demigods try to climb it. The remaining Hephaestus cabin spent most of its time in Bunker 9. As every other day, today anyone could hear the sound of an explosion and the rising smoke. Chiron played  pinochle  with those willing to try their hand at the game. Often it is the satyrs which play an occasional game with him. Chiron would win most time, he’s had thousands of years of practice. 

At night they got ready to sleep. The campers put away their armor and turned off their lights. A few were still awake as they thought of the adventures that were await them tomorrow. Chiron put on his hair curlers and settled into bed. The harpies flew around cleaning up camp. 

The Hunters near the borders of Camp Half Blood were already prepared to attack the camp. There were three cars of them. Not that many hunters came as was expected, only a mere eleven showed up.  Their trunks were full of weapons. All the hunters were determined to take down the demigods. These types of hunts were what earned hunters their reputations. This was too good of an opportunity to miss. 

Once they came to the border they found that the guards were dead and one of the trees was burnt to a crisp with what looked like melted gold in a puddle beside it. 

It was previously agreed that Ultio would go ahead as a large party drew too much attention. Now as the defenses were weak they attacked.

The Hunters spread out and silently walked to the cabins that were neatly arranged. They first set the cabins on fire to smoke out the demigods. Some of the demigods choked to death on the smoke, and some burned to death. Some were lucky enough to escape the cabins before they died. 

Hunters waited to ambush the demigods. Some were staked through the heart. Their corpses littered the camp. Demigods and hunters alike tripped over their bloodied corpses. Adults and kids were both among the dead. 

The Greek demigods fought back but were too tired. They were all in a panic at being woken up so suddenly and so cruelly. How was it that mortals know where their camp resided? Did they have a traitor in their midst? 

Some from the Hephaestus cabin used their gadgets and their targets went up in smoke. The Demeter cabin failed to use their plants as they burns around them. Hecate’s children managed to use their spells but for some reason they did not have their full effect on the intruders. 

The demigods were at a disadvantage as their celestial bronze weapons could not harm the raiders. Instead some of their weapons were used against them as fell into enemy hands. 

The trees were screaming. The tree spirits tried to put out the woods as the plants and trees caught fire. 

Chiron woke up too late to help. He lamented the absence of Dionysus who could have surely helped at least take the demigods to safety. He was disgusted by the hunter’s lack of morals for killing mere children. Attacking at night is strategic, not even a fair warning. 

Not many senior councilors were at camp during this time of year and so not all were very experienced in fighting, there did not stand a chance against the seasoned hunters. 

Few campers made it into the forest before they were shot down. 

That day Camp Half Blood was burned to the ground so only ashes remain. Demigods were scattered and the Hunters rejoiced their great exploits. The Big House was raided and any precious objects were taken as trophies. The gods checked on them too late, seeing the corpses of their children as they were stomped on by the Hunters.   
  


* * *

sorry for the long prologue. had to introduce a lot of the main characters for the story and all of the crises.


	2. The Case Begins

Chapter 1: The Case Begins

 

John had a few choice words to say to Sherlock but reasoned it would be best for them not to be said in front of an infant. He would rather not upset Rosie. Sherlock said traveling to America would be fun and exciting. John should have known better and left Rosie with Mrs. Hudson for her safety. What Sherlock ‘forgot’ to mention was the small detail of the scale and reach of this case. The first idea that popped into John’s head is a mass criminal organization, he _really_ should have left Rosie with Mrs. Hudson.

As he stood in front of the hotel, he wondered, what had they got themselves into. Some mysterious woman showed up and offered Sherlock a case and before John knew it they were on a plane to America. If he was Sherlock, John might wait for the other shoe to drop, as not every client just happened to give them paid first-class tickets to New York. But he wasn't Sherlock so he decided to leave that kind of speculation to the expert.

John hoped Sherlock knew what he was doing, especially as Rosie was with them. He unbuckled Rosie from the baby car seat and took her in his arms. The concierge walked up to him after a brief word with Sherlock. The concierge took the luggage from the boot of the car after a brief word to John.

He entered the hotel and saw Sherlock finish talking to the women behind the desk. At a first glance the hotel lobby was rather beautiful. The windows let in light which reflected off of the chandeliers and brightened the room. The light highlighted the lobby’s cream walls and modern minimalist style.

“Room 45 for you and Rosie, and Room 46 for me. Miss Olympia said she will visit us tomorrow,” Sherlock stated, giving him his room key. The keycard looked simple but elegant with the hotel’s name on one side and the bar strip on the other.

“Well then, let's see what kind of rooms we got,” John said rather uneasily. Often when someone gives an expensive gift it’s to alleviate guilt. _Just what has Mrs. Olympia gotten them into?_

**About two hours later…**

There was a knock the the door, Watson went to open it and saw a woman standing in the hallway.

“May I come in?” she asked. Her gaze was sharp, her clothing casual, there was a certain look about her. So this must be the client.

“Of course,” John answered as he let her into the flat. After she entered, he stood awkwardly not knowing what to say say to the stranger.

“I hope you find your rooms accommodating,” she said politely.

“Yes, they are fine.” John replied as he pointed towards a couch. She sat down on chair near the couch where Sherlock rested.

“Ah, Miss Olympia,” Sherlock said, “this is Doctor John Watson. John, meet Miss Olympia.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Watson, I have heard great things about you,” Miss Olympia said. She shook John’s hand as a friendly gesture, noting his awkwardness towards her.

“Now shall we get down to business,” Sherlock got down to the point before Watson could reply. “I was promised an extraordinary case. I’d rather you not have wasted valuable time that I could have used to finally solve ‘A sign of Four’.”

“Yes, of course. The case I am about to give you is highly sensitive, as I previously explained it. The fact of the matter is we have a small matter of a killer who has hurt one of my relative,” She said as she gave John a side glance after seeing his blank look she continued, “Is Dr. Watson up to speed on the matter?” She looked at Sherlock for an answer. John realized the weight of his ignorance as he felt left out in working this case.

Sherlock glanced at Watson before he replied, “What you propose is impossible but I agree to let the facts lead me to my own conclusions. John is rather more sympathetic than I am and I rather not get him in any more trouble than needed.”

“Fair enough. Then-,” Miss Olympia began speaking before Watson cut her off.

“Hold on,” John cut in with irritation, “What do you mean I’m sympathetic? What is the full story about this killer and your ‘relatives’?” His patience with Sherlock’s method has its limits, he was rather tired of being left out of the process. He might not be able to follow all of Sherlock’s thoughts but he can at least know the facts.

Miss Olympia had a great poker face, hiding her thoughts from John. Sherlock on the other hand was annoyed by this speed bump in the case.

“Dr. Watson, I mean you no offense but Sherlock assumed it would be easier to solve the case without having to be tangled up with my family’s business,” Ms. Olympia said seriously, “It can get very dangerous, and you have a daughter. You cannot afford to such a situation. My family has many connections and we have a broad view of family. The issue is that we need to keep this quiet. No publicity whatsoever. I request that you not write any of what you find on your blog. I’m sure I’m not the first person to come to you with such a request.”

“No you are not. I still don’t like being left in the dark. What if what I don’t know ends up putting me in danger?” John replied with even more irritation.

“That is why I have given the choice to your trusted friend,” Ms. Olympia said bluntly.

“He doesn’t always make the right choices,” John said as he gave Sherlock a look, reminding him of the time he pretended he was dead. Sherlock might understand facts but sometimes he can be blind when it comes to understanding human beings.

“For crying out loud John!” Sherlock said in exasperation, “I had no choice but to pretend I was death for the duration I did! Moriarty’s underground was still out there! You, Craig Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson were still all in danger! If I had revealed myself as alive much earlier than I did the chances of your survival would’ve been decreased extremely!”

“That would’ve been better than the hell those few years put me through!” John shouted angrily as he stood up to glare at Sherlock.

“Not to me John!” Sherlock replied loudly without standing up, “You are one of the few people I care about in this pathetic world!”

“Oh that’s right,” John said sarcastically, “Everything’s all about you isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Sherlock said bluntly making John scowl.

“You are a complete ass, Sherlock!” John said angrily, “By the way his name isn’t Craig!”

“Then what is it?” Sherlock replied with a normal tone.

“His name is Greg,” John sighed as he calmed down, but before he could sit back down his daughter started crying, “Oh now look what you’ve done. You’ve made her cry.”

“We,” Sherlock corrected.

“What?” John asked in confusion.

“We made her cry,” Sherlock answered, “I’ll talk with the client. You go comfort your fleshy defective alarm clock.”

“ _She_ is a _baby_ Sherlock,” John sighed as he walked off, but the only response was a dismissive gesture from Sherlock.

“Right,” Sherlock said as he addressed Miss Olympia, “Now where were we?”

**Ten minutes later…**

“I still don’t agree with you keeping me in the dark,” John told Sherlock as he rocked Rosie to sleep.

“It’s a good thing then that you don’t need to,” Sherlock said quickly, “Now we have a lead to follow so if you’re done with your tantrum, follow me.”

“Where?” John yelled after Sherlock who made was out of the door before he could get a word in.

“To the police department, family lives in New York and the NYPD had all the relevant information transferred to them.”

“I haven’t even scheduled a babysitter!” John exclaimed exasperatedly.

“Well I did,” Sherlock said as he walked back into the room, “While you were brooding I was looking out the window to see if the babysitter had arrived.”

A women of about twenty years of age stood outside John’s room as Sherlock opened the door wider, “The muppet is in there. You know what to do, and we’re off. ” The woman nodded a bit stunned at Sherlock’s hyper-activeness. Sherlock immediately resumed walking in the direction he was initially walking.

“But-,” John started to protest. With one final glance at the babysitter, he dashed off after Sherlock.

“I gave her your number, she already has mine,” Sherlock started going through the checklist that John was bound to ask him about, “She knows where we are going and it’s her job to look after a baby. I would think it’s fairly straight-forward.”

John struggled to keep up with Sherlock’s pace as he kept wanting to look over his shoulder to his hotel room. “Where are we going?” He asked Sherlock.

“We will go to the New York Police Department. Then _I_ will go to see the crime scene for myself. At the same time, _you_ will go to the victim’s family’s house.” Sherlock pressed the down button for the lift.

“Splitting up,” John observed. Sherlock was really not a people person, better John talk to the grieving family. The lift doors opened, and Sherlock entered with John right behind him.

“The witness lives in another state, also where the crime scene is, so you will talk to him once I give you his number,” Sherlock divulged as he pressed the ground floor button.

“Is the police department going to give you their files?” John asked as the lift descended.

“No, Miss Olympia already gave me a copy,” Sherlock stated.

“Then why are we heading to the police department?” John quizzed.

“I want to know what kind of police they are, whether they will be any use. I am also going to need them to do a background check on Miss Olympia,” Sherlock replied.

“Didn’t ask Mycroft?” John continued the interrogation.

“She’s not from the United Kingdom, therefore he would not be immediately interested. If I was to get him involved he would laugh and brush the mere idea away,” Sherlock stated. The doors to the lift opened and Sherlock and John walked out in the direction of the ground floor exit.

John was really started to regret not pushing for the truth. What kind of secret would make people laugh at it? Why would a joke be dangerous? Sherlock really liked the odd cases, but even he should know his limits. If Mycroft would laugh it off, then why is Sherlock reacting any different? The brothers may not always get along but on an intellectual level during cases they were more reliable. Then again, maybe Sherlock just doesn't want to ask his older brother for help.

“Let the case begin then,” John sighed and pushed open the doors to exit the hotel.

**Later at the NYPD…**

“Sherlock Holmes,” the officer asked, “the one from that blog?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied annoyed, “Now if we can get to the matter of the Anne Wakely case-”

“I’m sorry but it’s an open case, we are not allowed to disclose the specifics of that case with civilians,” the cop said stubbornly.

“I’m not a civilian, I’m a consulting detective and at the moment I’m acting on behalf of Anne Wakely’s family,” Sherlock countered with just as much stubbornness.

“Look, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson, I know that maybe in London you operate differently, but for all I know your blog could be just sugarcoating. I am personally on Anne akely’s case and I know for a fact that they did not hire you on their behalf,” the cop said with narrowed eyes.

Watson spoke before Sherlock continued on his single-minded path, “Call Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard, he can vouch for us.”

Sherlock sighed, “We didn’t directly speak with her parents we took the case after an extended family member contacted us.” The police officer did not look impressed. “Call her parents again,” Sherlock challenged.

The officer gave up and after a look at his folder called up Anne’s parents. “Hello, this is the New York Police Department calling to ask if you happened to hire Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson to look into your daughter’s case?” he asked. After another few words he said goodbye and hung up. He looked up at Sherlock and said, “I guess you’re cleared. I would still like to call up the officer you mentioned, I would like to know what to expect from your involvement in the case.”

“What do you know so far about Anne Wakely’s death?” Sherlock asked bluntly. He was not one to beat around the bush, he was not one for formalities.

“Don’t like niceties either?” the officer stood up, “Follow me, my desk is over there.” He tilted his head in his desk’s direction. Once they walked to his desk he took out a folder from his desk and opened it. “Let’s see, Anne Wakely was murdered leaving New York, her body was returned to the NYPD as she lived here in the city. She was on her way to visit a friend but ended up being murdered. Her body is in the morgue downstairs, the end,” the police officer bristled, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a case to solve.” The police officer took his phone, hid the file in his desk and walked past them.

“Well that was rude,” John observed.

“Very,” Sherlock confirmed. After a glance at the nameplate he continued, “But we have work to do, not worry about Officer Smyth’s mental state.” Sherlock quickly glanced around before he took Anne Wakely’s file out of the officer’s desk.

“What are you doing,” John hissed.

“Well it’s not very fair that we are bound by the law but the police don’t have to share information with us,” Sherlock said while taking pictures of the file with his camera phone. John quickly shields him from the view of other police officers as to prevent any confrontations.

“You could have insisted,” John pressed, “besides, don’t you have a copy?”

“We already asked,” Sherlock countered, “and yes I do, but not an updated file, I noticed it was the initial report. For all we know they may already have a suspect.” He closed the file and placed it precisely where he found it. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, hey! You must be Sherlock Holmes,” a voice stated, “the man with the weird hat.”

Sherlock turned around to the sound of the voice. A man stood there looking at him with a coffee mug in his hands. The man, however, didn’t look like a cop. He wasn’t in uniform and his blue eyes were carefree and looked at him with curiosity. He wore dark blue jeans, a button down shirt under a blazer/monkey suit top, and dark shoes. His chocolate-brown hair was parted at the side, of setting his square jawline.

“Yes, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is Doctor John Watson,” Sherlock indicated his friend.

**Less than ten minutes later…**

The group laughed hysterically as Sherlock recalled one of their cases.

“So you’re the infamous Sherlock Holmes,” said a female voice from behind Sherlock which immediately made everyone calm down.

“Yes,” Sherlock said as he turned around to stare at her, “and judging from your clothing and the badge clipped to your belt you’re the Lieutenant. You also have a look about you that suggests you’re a no-nonsense kind of copper. However, you have a kind side to you as well, but that is hidden by your loyalty to your job.”

The Lieutenant just looked at him quietly before she walked off to her office without saying a word.

“Speechless,” Castle remarked, “She must like you Sherlock. She wouldn’t shut up around me when we first met since I’m not a cop at all.”

“You’re not a copper?” John asked in confusion, “I thought the American Law Enforcement didn’t allow civilians to work with the police.”

“His is a special case,” Detective Esposito piped in, “It began with a series of murders based on his books. He was instrumental with solving it, besides as a writer he’s able to see things us cops can’t. It’s because of him we solved many cases. I guess you could say he’s a combination of you and your boyfriend.”

John stared at Esposito for a few seconds with a blank expression before breathing deeply so he wouldn’t overreact.

“We are NOT gay,” John said sternly and a bit loudly.

Before the conversation could continue Sherlock’s natural restlessness prompted him to stand up catching the attention of John, Esposito, Detective Ryan, Richard Castle, and Detective Kate Beckett who for once was intrigued by the conversation much more than the case; quite unnatural for her.

“Well gentlemen,” Sherlock said while he glanced subtly at the clock on the wall, “While this has been fun, we must really get back to work.” John caught on to Sherlock’s running out of patience with the social niceties.

“Yes,” John piped in, “We have a case to solve.”

“Hey why don’t you two tag along with us,” Castle said not missing a chance to talk to the eccentric detective. he could practically imagine a whole book series dedicated to him, too bad he already had a blog going.

Sherlock seemed a bit nonplussed at the idea of the police joining the case, he did not work well with others and it showed. John was a bit surprised but understood the annoyance of an officer whose capabilities were in question when a victim's family contacted a foreign contractor. John was a bit worried how Sherlock might react with the addition company.

“First, I will need to see the body,” Sherlock stated and Detective Kate Beckett reluctantly led him to the morgue with Castle’s prodding; besides a part of her was interested in seeing if all the stories about what Sherlock can do were accurate.

**At the morgue…**

“Lanie,” Kate said as she walked up to the M.E, “We need to see the body of the late Miss Anne Wakely.”

“Didn’t you already do so?” Lanie asked frowning before she noticed Sherlock and John, “Who are those two?”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes and this is Doctor John Watson,” Sherlock said a bit hurriedly.

“You’re the ‘hat’ detective?” Lanie asked with a raised eyebrow, “If that’s the case why aren’t you wearing it?”

“I hate that hat,” Sherlock replied bluntly.

“Okay then,” Lanie shrugged before redirecting her attention to Kate, “You sure it’s okay to let civilians help with the case?”

“That’s a bit hypocritical,” Castle remarked raising an eyebrow, “You work with me all the time and I’m a civilian.”

“Okay,” Lanie conceded, “I see your point. This better not bite me in the ass.”

Lanie then walked over to a small square door and opened it before pulling out Anne Wakely’s body. She lifted the cloth from her neck and the leg where Miss Wakely was shot.

Sherlock glanced at the body after he ripped the cloth all the way off the corpse, he kept in mind the circumstances of her death. The bullet wound was already sewn shut by the morgue staff, the bullet placed in evidence. The depth of the wound would suggest that the shooter stood far from her when he shot her.

“What was the caliber of the bullet?” Sherlock asked not expecting a reply.

“Not sure yet,” said the M.E who happened to be an African-american woman named Lanie, “But we think it’s a .45. The calculations haven’t been completed yet. I had to do an autopsy of another body that came in earlier this morning for another case.”

“The caliber is unimportant right now anyway,” Sherlock said as he moved to the neck wound, “John what do you think?”

John then leaned closer to the wounds and examined them for a few minutes before he stood straight up again.

“The bullet wound looks to be much older because there’s some bits of dried blood around the wound,” John said, “the neck wound on the other hand is paler and newer. Even if that weren’t so she would’ve bled out to death without the help of an EMT which she clearly was unable to get.”

“Agreed,” Sherlock said nodding.

The wound at the throat was obviously what killed Anne Wakely. The cut was too deep to let her live long. It was a bit gruesome. Why did he not break her neck? The CCTV footage gave Sherlock an impression that the man was fit enough to do it. Cutting her would have left blood on his clothes and his hands (which, according to the footage, were hidden in the hoodie the man was wearing). Shooting her then cutting her required a gun and a knife. By the looks of the cut, not a straight knife either, the curved cut was not as even as it should have been.

Anne’s expression in itself was odd, even though she was already shot she was surprised by her attacker. Remembering the footage from the CCTV camera, he then thought that based off of the footage, maybe he pretended to help her only to kill her once her guard was down.

Time to see the scene of the crime.

“John,” Sherlock said as he headed towards the door with Kate and Castle right behind him, “You head to the family’s house after you get as much information as you can concerning the autopsy and let me know what you find once we meet up again.”

“Is he always like this?” Lanie asked as she watched Sherlock head out the door.

“Unfortunately,” John sighed, “Anyway, is there anything more that I should know in order to help with the case. Especially if there’s anything weird that you might have found.”

“There is one thing,” Lanie replied as she headed to her desk and picked up a bag, “I found this in her neck. The knife he used probably was old enough to chip.”

“What kind of metal is that?” John asked as he squinted at it.

“It’s some kind of black bronze,” Lanie replied with a tone that indicated she wasn’t sure.

“Come again?” John asked in confusion since he had never heard of a weapon made of black bronze. Especially since he never heard of bronze ever being black before.

**At the scene of the crime…**

Sherlock took in all the detail as he used his phone to compare the original crime scene photos to the scene in front of him.

There was a blood trail starting near the entrance of the alley. The coroner’s report said she lost a lot of blood before her throat was slit. She could have collapsed as soon as she saw the alley that would prove shelter from the assailant. Adrenaline, after all, doesn’t last long.

The tapes Miss Olympia gave him did introduce a possible suspect, that is if the man didn’t run from the actual murder or didn’t kill her out of mercy. There were many possible theories of how the man was involved, always good to keep an open mind.

The blood spatter was rather violently painted on the wall, not hesitant or accidental. Definitely murder, definitely professional. If so then the man who left the alley was likely the murderer.

Sherlock then knelt down as he took his magnifying glass out of his coat. If he was lucky he might get an impression of the shoe of the murderer. There might not be any mud but from the security camera a man of the height would leave some impression even if it’s the dimensions of the shoe if not the design. Unfortunately for him any light shoe impression would have been destroyed by the police or the forensic team.

“Is the forensic team always so careless?” Sherlock asked out of irritation.

“No,” Beckett said with equal irritation, “She is the best forensic analyst I know. You’ve met her already.”

“Then did she bother to look where she stepped?” Sherlock asked as he noticed a small pool of dried blood. The murderer probably used a knife which he then dropped, but why? Why would he need his hands or hand free? Why didn’t he put it in his pocket or wherever he hid it before.

“Looking for footprints?” Beckett asked, “Isn’t that a bit optimistic for this scene?”

“No, there should have been something left,” Sherlock replied, “Now we’ll just have to take down all the shoe measurements and cross out all the police and forensic personnel. Sometimes the smallest of details can solve a case.” Waste of time, but at least then he might try to cross reference that with the security camera footage. He then trailed the pool of blood with his eyes to try to imagine where the murderer would have stood. Based on his height from the video-. And there it, barely visible, but with one eye closed, yes, it’s really there. Seems like they have a possible shoe size. He’ll have to cross reference with the video footage. The slight indents probably wouldn't have been disturbed that much even if he turned on his heel to get out of the scene of the crime.

“Where was she shot,” Sherlock asked changing the subject.

“We don’t have the location yet. She must have been running for a long time,” said Detective Beckett.

 _Well that’s just fantastic. No wonder we were hired for this job, besides the bizarre supernatural opinions of Miss Olympia,_ thought Sherlock as he asked, “Did you cross reference last nights footage with other cameras in the area?”  


“We lost her a few streets over, there weren’t any cameras to follow her,” Kate said shaking her head.

“Show me,” Sherlock said with some excitement now that he was getting somewhere.

**Meanwhile, at the Wakely house…**

John was trying to ask for any details about Anne Wakely that they might need. What he didn’t expect was for the carefully worded responses. He knew that Sherlock and Miss Olympia were hiding something but now it seemed to really impair his ability to collect valuable information.

All he managed to gather is what the police already know. She was killed while was traveling to a friend’s. She was a nice girl, she had a few close friends, but no enemies that would want her to die a violent death. In the past she did get into trouble a few times but that’s in the past. According to the police, she was just at the wrong moment and the wrong time.

“I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Wakely,” John started again gently, he was really tired of the secrets, “I know that you are leaving something out. While I was warned by Miss Olympia, I need to know about anything that might affect the investigation. You have to keep in mind that we are not the police, our loyalty is to you.” Well his was, Sherlock was interested by curiosity. In retrospect, John realized the tension at the mention of Miss Olympia.

“There is a great deal that we can’t tell you. You won’t believe us,” Mrs. Wakely defended.

“Sherlock has a very open mind, he follows the facts,” John replied.

The couple looked at each other. “We think she was murdered due to her ties to the other side of her family. Her father is a very powerful man and has many powerful enemies,” Miss Wakely started, “Anne was going to visit Camp Jupiter, another camp that was for kids with her type of powerful family. It’s all the way across the country, how did they find her. It was only last minute that she decided to visit her friends instead of going to Camp Half-Blood. Of all the routes she could have chosen, how did they find her?” Her speech ended in sobs and Mr. Wakely hugged her close.

“Can we get in touch with her father?” John asked again. She dodged his initial attempt but he really hoped she could give him something that Sherlock would be able to use.  

“No, I haven’t talked to him in seventeen years,” Mrs. Wakely stated tiredly, “but if you have spoken with Ath-Miss Olympia, you can ask her, she should know where her half-brother is.”

 _Was that a slip up_ , John thought, _probably just used to calling her by her first name as they are family._

“Okay. Thanks for your help. I promise you that we’ll get that shite-faced prick,” John said. He frowned internally as he noticed the tension when Mrs. Wakely mentioned Miss Olympia. He then thought, _Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood. I’ve never heard of those places before. Jupiter? As in the planet or the Roman god? Was she into astronomy? Not from what I saw of her bedroom. Half-Blood? That name seemed odd. Maybe Sherlock knows about it since he probably heard it from Miss Olympia as her family is involved in this. Or maybe Sherlock has a list of all the American camps in this country in his mind palace. You never know with Sherlock._

**Back with Sherlock …**

Sherlock was annoyed, if the surveillance camera was tilted a bit the other way, it  would have caught a glimpse of which direction Anne came from. Instead, the detectives have to visit all three streets which in themselves branched out. It doesn't help that Anne was returning to the hotel not running from it. There was no endpoint they could use as a reference.

It took a good hour and a half with the help of Castle and Detective Beckett to find the place where she was shot.

The first thing that popped into Sherlock’s head was that there were two assailants. The murderer could have shot her, but he didn’t. Sure it would have been loud and would echo in the alley, but someone took that risk already when they shot her initially. That means two attackers who probably weren’t even partners. Otherwise they would have both used guns as knives are a bit too hands on than long range weapons, not good for employers who don’t like the spotlight. So it wasn’t an assassination, but Anne was targeted, that much was obvious. There were other civilians in the area, yet only she was killed though two killers were running lose.

“Find anything?” Castle asked intrigued in Sherlock’s process.

“For starters, she was targeted even with two killers running amok. They weren’t working together but somehow knew who to kill. It’s unlikely we will find anything on the shooter here as he would would have shot from afar and we can’t be sure she didn’t turn around when she was shot. We’ll have to look for if there were other bullets that missed her. We might find the position of the shooter from there. The murderer would have been nearby enough to notice her as she was shot and take advantage of her injury. Again we’ll need surveillance footage to determine his former position. Now, I have to meet back up with John, he should be back from talking to the family by now.”

“That sounds like that would be an awesome story,” Castle remarked, “Mind If I bring you two into my next book? It’s all fiction, mind you, but all plausible.”

“I don’t care either way,” Sherlock said bluntly, “John might be irritated though since writing about the ‘Hat’ Detective is his hobby. You’ll have to talk to him about it if you don’t want to anger him.”  


* * *

every odd chapter will be a Sherlock chapter and every even numbered chapter will be a Supernatural chapter. Until both the Winchesters and Sherlock unite to solve the case and take down the big bads. there are technically two, but ultimately there's only one big bad.

 


	3. The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean argue with each other as brothers are prone to do. Benny the Vampire makes an appearance. Sam goes on a hunt. They learn more about what is going on in the world that they not even veterans like them have seen or heard of.

Chapter 2: The Hunt Begins

 

It had been a couple of days since the Winchesters had met Marco Ultio and they were still nowhere close to figuring out who he actually was. After all his name didn't sound Irish, like his accent, rather his last name sounded like Italian or Latin. They also couldn't figure out why he was so interested in killing off the demigods, nor how he learned that there was a whole encampment full of them. Currently Sam was taking a sip from his twentieth mug of coffee as he kept searching for anything concerning Ultio.

"Sam?" asked Dean as he walked into the room with an expression indicating a bad night's sleep, "Did you get any sleep last night at all, or was it another all-nighter?"

"All-nighter," Sam replied as he clacked on the laptop's keyboard.

"That's not good for you Sammy," Dean said as he headed towards the exit of the hotel room, "You really do need to get some shut eye. We have all the time in the world to figure out the Leprechaun."

"Didn't you read the paper from two days ago Dean?" Sam asked with a hint of anger, "A bunch of kids were found butchered, some with stakes through their chests, on Long Island Sound!"

"Yeah, I read it," Dean said with a shrug, "They're monsters and hunters kill monsters. I say kudos to them."

"Goddammit Dean!" Sam shouted angrily as he jumped to his feet, "It doesn't matter if they're werewolves or shapeshifters! You don't kill kids!"

"A monster is a monster, Sam," Dean said as he narrowed his eyes at his brother, "It doesn't matter if they're kids or not."

"Hunters kill monsters," Sam said quietly, "That's what you said, right?"

"Yes," Dean said slowly as narrowed his eyes again.

"Well the only monster I see right now Dean," Sam said as he sat back down, "Is you."

Dean only grunted before opening the door and slamming it shut after he exited the room.

"Lover's quarrel?" asked a passersby, this irritated Dean.

"We're brothers," Dean said right before punching him in the face.

"The fuck was that for man?" cried out the man as he held his nose.

"You were there," Dean grunted as he headed towards the stairs leading to the ground.

"You're fucking loco, man!" the guy hollered after Dean, but Dean only flipped him off as he walked down the stairs.

While Dean was taking out his frustration out on his surroundings, Sam just kept scrolling through the latest news, trying to calm down.

Sam was frustrated by Dean's response. Sam couldn't help feel like this case was different. Somehow the kids aren't just demigods. They had lives,  _normal_ lives. They had mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. They went to school, maybe had a job or volunteered somewhere. They weren't just mischief-makers who took pleasure in toying with humans. The amount of articles and video-interviews of the grieving families wasn't the usual result of a hunt. He was used to trying to sooth surviving victims of monsters, he wasn't used to being on the other side. Usually even when hunters killed, it was for the greater good, but in this case he honestly couldn't see it. He can't get the picture of the crying mother clutching her butchered son out of his head.

If someone took out the context, the image could easily be mistaken for ethnic cleansing. The hunters didn't even hide or clean up the mess they made, just left everything.

Currently the massacre was being seen as a possible cult activity or serial killings. Nonetheless, people were outraged how a small children's camp was destroyed. There were things left out of the report that he heard from other hunters like the children clutching weapons or why a summer camp would still be going on when the school year was already beginning.

Hunters were divided on what happened on Long Island. Some don't see the problem with the large coordinated hunt, they see it as a necessary evil for the greater good. Some things people were just not ready to hear about, so let them see it as they will. Others hunters were uneasy about the massacre, the newer hunters were uneasy by such easy tendencies to murder even children. It's one thing to kill a possessed kid that is about to kill you but the massacre wasn't in self-defense, it was a planned assault.

When Sam and Dean initially heard about a demigod encampment they assumed the aforementioned demigods to be at least older than 18. Finding out this way was a hard pill to swallow. Besides the question of how there are so many children of the gods and the high concentration and communication between them, in the end they're just kids. Hunters could have tried to parley with them or spy on them to assess their potential danger.

Sam felt a little guilty on how the situation turned out with Jack. For a second he couldn't help think how he didn't get a chance to be normal like those kids since the demons came by and grabbed him with a guy who looked like he belonged in the Wild West in the lead. Heck that guy even had the accent of a Western character in a Western film. He also looked a bit like the Colonel on every KFC commercial. Somehow, against all the odds, those kids lived out there life in such a way that it was almost normal. There was hope of their integration within society even with the power they possessed. If that was true they could even help keep other monsters in check. Sam thought back to the myths of Achilles, Perseus, Heracles… Maybe they could be like the heroes of old- without the proneness for trouble. Unfortunately their luck ran out, the demigods were found out and now any left would run for the hills. It's unlikely that he would get a chance to talk to a demigod who has been raised in such an environment. The kids seemed so different from Loki. Now he would never get to find out just how different.

Sam sighed and decided he needed a break. He got a call earlier about a monster slithering around town. The hunter who called was tracking a vampire but came across a shapeshifter. He called in Sam to take care of shapeshifter while he kept track of the vampire, hoping to catch a whole nest unaware. Now Sam just had to find this snake-woman and take her out.

**With Dean…**

Dean was currently in a bar drinking a beer as he mulled over what Sam told him before he left the hotel room. He didn't even bother making any advances towards women, and even ignored some who made advances towards him.

"Hello Dean," said a familiar voice from behind Dean's chair at the bar. Dean suddenly turned around and saw a man standing there. The man wore a Hermes Hadriana Cap on his head, shading his dark eyes. His face had a short brown scruff with some grey hairs in it. He had a black trenchcoat that only reached his thighs over a white shirt and casual blue jeans.

"Benny?" Dean asked dropping his beer as he widened his eyes.

"It's me brother," Benny said as he walked towards Dean's table.

"How?" Dean asked, "You're supposed to be in Purgatory." As happy as he was to see Benny, good things just don't fall into their lap that often.

"I still am in Purgatory, Dean," Benny stated as he sat down in the chair.

"Then how?" Dean asked in confusion.

"How am I talking to you?" chuckled Benny before he answered, "I got some assistance in that."

"Who?" Dean interrogated as he narrowed his eyes, "Was it Chuck, I mean God?"

"Yes and no," Benny answered cryptically.

"What does that mean?" Dean interrogated.

"Wish I could tell you," Benny replied honestly, "But I'm not allowed to tell you. That's the only way I was allowed to talk to you."

"Why are you here to talk to me?" Dean said, "I doubt it's because you wanted a friend to speak to."

"You're right about that Dean," Benny confirmed, "I know what happened to Cas, and I'm sorry about your friend. Truly. However, you can't forget that there are such things as good monsters. I am one afterall."

"You're the only exception," Dean grunted, "Every other one of them are evil."

"You're wrong Dean," Benny pressed, "You may be the brawns, but Sam is the heart. You're judgement is currently impaired so follow Sam's judgement."

"How is it you're more lively now than the last time I saw you in Purgatory?" Dean inquired with a raised eye.

"Like you Dean, Purgatory is more of a home than the world of the living," Benny chuckled, "It's simple here. No right or wrong. Just survival. It's been good talking to you Dean. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Doubtful," Dean grunted.

"Don't say that," Benny replied, "Especially since you're a son of-"

Suddenly Benny vanished from the chair opposite Dean, interrupting his sentence. As soon as Benny was gone Dean realized that people were staring at him as if he was crazy. He covered his ear and loudly said goodbye, hopefully everyone will think he wore an bluetooth.

He then stood up and left the dinner after he finished drinking the rest of the beer and dropped some cash on the table.

 _Could've told me that I was the only one that could see you Benny,_ thought Dean sourly as he made his way to his '67 Chevy Impala.

**Meanwhile, in another part of town…**

The shadow of a man can be seen gliding through the night. He tried to be as silent as possible while he constantly looked around at anything that moved. He couldn't risk running into anyone, any delay could be catastrophic. It is paramount that they get his message. Who knows how many of them are left, and how long before they find out of what happened? After all, demigods avoid computers and probably didn't check the news.

A shadow moved.

He twitched, then he acted like he didn't notice anything and kept going on his way. He kept watch of the shadow out of the corner of his eye. He now wished he was 16, if he knew how to drive he could have stolen a car. Of course a crazy car would draw too much attention and eventually would attract the police. He couldn't afford the delay of breaking out of handcuffs and evading the police.

If he's lucky he could run into another demigod and, or, work with them or give them the message in case he doesn't make it across the country in time. In times like these it would be really useful for demigods to have phones.

He could have rode a pegasus but they stampeded as soon as the chaos started and the battle was lost. He could have Iris messaged but he doesn't have a drachma on him. Besides, who knew if the gods decided to close communication between gods and demigods again. Of course gods have shown unable to learn from past mistakes.

He heard a crash. He slipped and caught himself in time. It was just an arguing couple fighting up in their apartment above.

The shadow moved again, the same one as before. Not a good sign. It seems he has a stalker. He quickly turned down an alley which led to a fenced area, if he can jump over in time before it catches up to him, he can catch sight of what's behind him. He rushed over the fence and jumped back when he heard the impact of a body rattling the fence. He found himself facing a Scythian Dracaena, not a good omen, there's probably mor-

As he was getting up, he was slammed from behind by something heavy. He saw stars and he ducked the monster's next swing. He rolled under the scaly legs of the other dracanae and pushed himself up, his head was still ringing from the first hit of the metal pipe.

The second dracaena was already jumping down from the fence as he rushed out of the alley. He was still tired of the traveling and he knew if he stopped to fight he was done for.

He pulled up on the ladder to the apartment above and climbed up. He pulled the ladder back up, and climbed higher and higher. He would either have to jump to the next building- probably not going to be a problem- or he would have to hide inside an apartment or in the hall.

"What the hell are you doing?!" a man shouted gruffly. He woke up for a glass of water only to find it hard to sleep with the racket outside. He certainly didn't know the boy climbing the fire escape of the apartment building he, himself, had lived in for fifteen years. For all he knew the boy was a runaway or a thief.

"Sorry," the boy quietly shouted, "forgot my keys, promise it won't happen again, I didn't want to wake my dad up." He casually checked the alley that he came from.

"Well you certainly will with this racket, it sounds as if your being chased by the devil," he scolded, "say, what apartment you from?"

"The end of the hall on the fourth floor," he lied, "I really should be going, it's cold out here." But he knew that if the old man caught him he could be chased by more than just the dracaena.

"What number is that again," he inquired, "I should complain to your father come morning."

"415," he said, his answer sounding more like a question than a statement.

"There is no 415 at the end of the fourth floor, if you don't get out of here now I'm going to call the cops."

"But-," he started to argue, but then thought better of it, "I'm leaving, I'm leaving, but my dad isn't going to be happy about this." He tried belatedly to appeal to the man's sympathy. He jumped down only to see shadows move around the next corner.  _Oh Hades_ , he might just not make it this time.

He ran zig-zagging around buildings trying to glimpse a way to escape the monsters. Then he saw the diner up ahead. He rushed through the back door and put on his hoodie. He avoided any staff that might see his face and know he didn't belong. He passed by the washrooms and for a second considered barricading himself in the- probably- windowless room. No they would still smell him and then he would be trapped in there. He considered asking a patron at the dinner to call a friend of his, mimicking losing his voice, and trying to find if there is anyone else who could pass on his message. He himself can't be the one to call. If only he tried, maybe, he could find a demigod who was still alive and could pass on the message.

He scanned the diner again before sitting down at the back and found the dracaena's eyes meet his. As she rushed for the door, he rushed through another exit. He bolted down the street. A tall man, seeing the monster behind the teenager, pulled out a gun.

 _Well that's not going to do anything_ , the teen thought. "That won't kill it," he shouted as he passed the stranger.

As the dark-haired man kept shooting he realized his bullets didn't even slow the monster.

"Leave ussss human, this doessss not concern you," the nearest dracaena hissed at the stranger.

"I think it does," he replied, "leave him alone." He turned to the teen and said, "run."

"That won't hurt them," the teen replied, "but this will." With the mortal involved he didn't see any choice but to fight. He pulled a dagger from the waistband of his jeans and threw it at the monster just barely doing enough damage to disintegrate the monster into dust. He pulled his back up dagger from his boot and turned to face the last dracaena.

The tall man circled the dracaena as well and pulled the dagger from the remains of the first dracaena. He was surprised by the way the dagger glinted, he couldn't really tell in the dark, but it didn't look like the typical stainless steel of throwing knives or the silver he expected.

The dracaena remained still staring at them while they circled her, then suddenly she tried to trip the demigod and went for the tall stranger. She was surprised by the seemingly mortal man as he dodged her attack and even managed to cut the dracaena.

The teen lunged at her from behind hoping to stab her in an opening in her armour. If he carefully aimed for the back of her neck he might be able to hit something vital. Unfortunately, she moved to avoid a blow from the dark-haired stranger and his dagger only made her snarl in pain. As she instinctively tried to force him to remove the dagger, the stranger stabber her above the collarbone and cut through to her heart. She disintegrated into golden dust and the stranger shook his head before turning to the teenager, "Mind explaining to me what that was all about?"

"Wait-," he was confused, "you saw that?"

"Of course I saw that. Who are you and what were those snake-women trying to kill you?" the stranger looked at him oddly.

"I'm Stephen," he paused which the stranger took as an opportunity to introduce himself.

"I'm Sam." the dark haired man answered the unasked question.

"Are you a demigod?" Stephen finally inquired, seemingly found the answer to his puzzle.

"What?! No why would you think I'm a demigod?" the man reacted as if he was insulted.

"You saw what they really were, which means you might just be a mortal who can see through the Mist." The teenager reasoned out loud.

"Hang on, what exactly were they?" Sam asked.

"Scythian Dracaena, dragon women, they're soldiers, if they were after me then I was supposed to be more than just dinner." Stephen was starting to feel all the pain and fatigue of the last few days that the adrenaline had dulled.

"How's that?" Sam asked, trying to wrap his head around his development.

"I'm supposed to pass on a message which is in their best interest that it doesn't reach its destination." Stephen then smacked his own face. "Or they could have just went ahead with their plans ahead of schedule." If one camp is gone then it is in the best interest of the monsters that they attack now when the demigods think they have won a reprieve.

"Come with me, I might be able to help."

**Back with Dean…**

On the way back to the motel room, Dean had bought a pack of bear from the gas station and was now drinking it in the motel room. He flipped through the channels until he settled on one of the more reasonable channels. He was still trying to shrug off his brother's accusations. He knew Benny was right, Sam was the younger one, he could afford to care, Dean was the one supposed to protect his little brother. He didn't think he had to follow the advice of sparing any non-human though.

The lock on the door clicked open catching Dean's attention making him turn to see who's at the door. Mentally he thinks how far away the nearest gun is, 2 seconds, in case he might be having an uninvited guest on his hands.

To Dean's surprise a teenager entered the room first with Sam just behind him. In Dean's opinion the kid seemed shifty, because he was looking around the room every five minutes. He was probably looking around for anything to help him with an escape plan.

"Dean," Sam addresses him, "this is Stephen, he was chased by the monster I was hunting. I thought we could help him get where he needs to go." Sam looks at Dean sharply,  _seems a long explanation for this is in order_.

"Well I'm Dean and I'm sure my brother has a good reason why your here, so, let's hear it." Dean stated in a bored tone as he looked at the kid expectedly. Clearly Sam is hiding something with the way he phrased the kid's introduction, most likely he knows it will set Dean off.

"Stephen needs to deliver a message about a monster attack to a secluded camp in San Francisco." While Sam was choosing his next words carefully, Dean broke in.

"And this camp," Dean imitated Sam's careful phrasing, "you can't just call or text?"

"No, they don't really have access to phones," Stephen replied not waiting for Sam to answer.

"What's so important about the camp?"

"We- I-," Stephen was unsure which pronoun to use, "I think the residents are being chased by the monsters who destroyed another camp like it in the first place. They're the only ones who would think of hurting the residents." At the statement something flashed in Sam's eyes. Stephen must have meant the camp of demigods but it wasn't the monsters who destroyed it- it was hunters. Now he can't exactly tell Stephen that in front of Dean, the kid would run away.

After Dean saw recognition in Sam's face he realized it must be the demigod camp Stephen was talking about. That wasn't even subtle. Sam just couldn't leave things well enough alone could he? Now he brought a demigod here- because what else could the kid be. "This camp doesn't happen to be the demigod encampment would it?" Dean asked casually.

Stephen flinched, he was ready to bolt. After looking over his shoulders for so long it was hard to calm down. "Ya, it is. Look I know your brother says you don't like demigods but I have to warn them. They will all die if I don't say something."

"Dean wait," Sam insisted. "Stephen, I think there might be a misunderstanding. I know for a fact that the monsters that were chasing you weren't the ones that destroyed that camp. Hunters destroyed the demigod encampment."

"What?" Stephen said perplexed, "what do you mean hunters, the Hunters of Artemis wouldn't do that."

"Hunters of Artemis," Sam asked, "like the goddess of the hunt? No, I meant Hunters- humans that hunt the supernatural."

"What do you mean hunters- why would-" Stephen was tired and in pain, at this point all he wanted to do was sleep this off. He really should have asked to explain this in the morning.

"Wait a sec-," Dean stopped Stephen's eventual breakdown, "if there are another bunch of hunters out there, we should have some warning, so who are these Hunters of Artemis?" Sam was partially grateful for Deans question because if the news was to properly sink in for Stephen there is no way he would trust them.

"The Hunters of Artemis are girls who swear off boys in exchange for immortality. They go on hunts with Artemis," Stephen absently stated.

"Swear off boys? Why would anyone want to do that?" Dean joked as he waggled his eyebrows. Sam just rolled his eyes at Dean's cockiness, better keep him away from the Hunters of Artemis so he doesn't get the goddess angry.

"Dean does your depravity know no bounds?" Sam sighed as he directed Stephen to a table near the bed closest to the bathroom.

"Depravity?" Dean snorted, "I'm not depraved. I'm awesome."

"Jerk," Sam chuckled.

"Bitch," Dean chuckled back.

**At night…**

A lone dracaena stood in the rain and glared at the dimly lit motel that it tracked the human and the demigod to. She had arrived too late to stop them from killing her fellow soldiers. She will make sure to avenge their deaths. The orders were to kill the demigod. For a moment the Dracaena indulged the thought of setting the whole motel on fire.  _No_ , she thought,  _that would draw too much attention, we were supposed to feign retreat_. She had no taste for these convoluted schemes, but her heart was like a war drum, she will wait is she had to as long as she has to for open battle to begin.

"You've made a big missssstake human," she hissed to the night air, "Nothing dissssintegratesssss my ssssissssterssss and livesssss to tell the tale."

* * *

We have finally finished chapter 2. again combined with my colleague's love for making plans which i don't share but accept and IRL things getting in the way it took until today/night to finish this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be Sherlock centered. and much longer too because Sherlock is more like a set of TV movies. so each Sherlock centered chapter will be very long as to honor the show.


	4. Counting Bodies Like Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock summarizes the info he currently has, Jack the Ripper gets damaged, and there's a survivor/witness.

Chapter 3: Counting Bodies Like Sheep

 

Sherlock was a realist, he knew that it was just a matter of time before the bodies started adding up. Anne Wakely’s killer was obviously someone who had experience in that line of work. Therefore it was inevitable that he would be either a mercenary or a serial killer. In both cases, another one of Miss Olympia’s family members was bound to be targeted. Then, they would either have more clues that would point to the murder or a body to examine.

 It did not take long for the pile of bodies to start adding up.

 After Anne Wakely there was Simon Barnes. His identity was confirmed by his parents. Like in Anne’s case, one of his parent’s was not his biological parent. In some cases that could have pointed to motive, especially when there’s teenagers in the mix, but in both cases Anne and Simon were both on good terms with their step-parents.

 Simon’s body was found near a gym that he visited often. His throat was brutally slashed, and beyond a few bruises that he obtained when he tried to struggle, Simon had no more injuries. From the previous case this pattern seemed odd especially since Simon struggled more. Anne’s body was more damaged then Simon. The odd part being that since, while the killer was hired to hunt down Miss Olympia’s relatives, it was clear the killer enjoys his work.

 For a second it reminded him of Moriarty and the games he liked to play, but Moriarty was dead, no point in wasting time in thinking about it.

 As the murders show, the killer liked his work, and the killer preferred torturing woman more than men, though that can only be confirmed by another victim, so far it was only a coincidence.

 Since Simon did struggle, he could have injured the killer which could make him more identifiable. The forensics were still testing the body but he could have bitten the killer or left some evidence at the crime scene that was yet to be identified. There was a footprint found at the crime scene which has been clearly identified but from the weight distribution it is likely the killer was not wearing his own shoe size. Sherlock was not sure if that would mark the killer as smart or as poor. If so then they would know what kind of places he hid in. Only time will tell when they establish a clear pattern.

 While the killer was experienced, clearly there was a small chance that a victim survived the attack they only had to him them. Sherlock thought to remind himself to check the latest reports or even the older reports to see if there were any victims that survived and can identify the killer. He will have to do it quickly before the killer makes sure to make the victims quiet, permanently.

 At the crime scene, there was blood spatter on the wall identified as Simon’s. So far no blood from the killer was found. The pattern confirmed that there was a struggle so Simon must have been prepared or seen the killer at least.

 No CCTV cameras were in the area near the murder. There were a few in the gym due to security and harassment issues. There were a few in various shops, after a discussion with the police, they had someone watching the videos to list all the possible people in the vicinity of the crime scene. Identifying victims seemed to be very long as some of the shops had substantial clientele. Luckily the police department had allowed for more assistance on the case due to it’s inevitable long list of victims if the killer was not caught. The staff of the shops were notified to recall any suspicious or new clients who came through on that day.

 As Sherlock shifted through the information in his head, he could hear John’s voice faintly as he tried to get his attention. Sighing Sherlock decided to finish up his review for the time being.

 “What is it,” Sherlock asked.

 “Glad to have you in the Land of the Living,” John said sarcastically, “It has been days since we arrived in New York and you still haven’t told me what is going on with Miss Olympia.”

 “Like I said before you would ask too many questions and I don’t want you to get attached to what she had proposed,” Sherlock reminded John.

 “You will have to tell me someday,” John warned him, “Often the things you don’t tell me tend to place us in the line of fire. We’ve been here for days and the killer has already murdered again. This is moving along very quickly and I’m afraid I might not being able to keep up. I have Rosie now, I can’t keep putting myself in danger, I can’t keep putting her in danger. She is a baby, she has no idea of what’s going on. She can’t protect herself, and you are lying to me and that isn’t doing us any favors.”

 “I think we both know that’s not why you want to know what’s going on. You miss, it. You miss the adventure and now you are trying to do both: be a father and go off on adventures and your blaming me for why you can’t seem to do both adequately.”

John sighed, “Now your just deflecting. You might as well know another body arrived, thought you might want to see it.”

“Why didn’t you start with that?” Sherlock said giving him a look.

“Then we wouldn’t have had that nice chat, you would have just rushed off,” John replied. “You should know that I already took a look while you were in your mind palace. The victim is Susan Moore, she was found barely recognizable with all the blood and lacerations. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought Jack the Ripper is back from the dead,” John remarked.

“Why’s that,” Sherlock asked.

“Her corpse was badly mutilated, was found in an alley, and her friend said she was a prostitute. Poor girl, the pain she must have been in,” John said thoughtfully. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t see the horror of the crime so much as the puzzle. Sherlock’s excited attitude at a crime scene can be quite unnerving.

“I will take that into consideration when I assess the crime,” Sherlock said, “if what you say was to be true it could be a copycat, though I don’t see why it’s of any relevance to the case we are working on.”

“You’ll know when you see it,” John said cryptically.

**At the Morgue...**

“Say hello to Susan Moore. Miss Olympia said she is not a relative so I had doubts. I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t see the injuries. Different motive, same injuries as your murder. The cause of death was strangulation, by hand that is-” the Medical Examiner began saying.

“Very aggressive, repressed anger, abdomen ripped out,” Sherlock said as he walked around looking at all the injuries. “John said it reminded him of Jack the Ripper.” He glanced at the ME.

John wasn’t wrong. There was something ridiculously familiar about the injuries inflicted by this killer and Jack the Ripper. Sherlock would know, after all it was a fascinating case to play with when he was a child. It showed him the incompetence of the police.

“Well sure, I didn’t want to say anything, I know you don’t like to start with assumptions. I checked the old case files of the Jack-the-Ripper-like cases in New York and there is a similar pattern, but there’s no way it’s Jack the Ripper.”

“No, of course not,” Sherlock said. _It can’t be_ , he thought. “We should expect a copycat killer. If the murderer is really working for an enemy of Miss Olympia then they must also be getting tired of it, seems like the killer has a hobby.”

“There’s something else too,” the ME said, “If this continues, it’s going to be an FBI matter. The killer is moving, he knows we're looking for him, he has a long hitlist, he will want to get out of state soon. You better find something soon or he might just get out of state before then.”

**Meanwhile, across town…**

In a bar in Hell’s Kitchen a woman wearing a black Acne Studios Moto jacket over a black shirt with a grey scarf around her neck was drowning her sorrows in a shot glass. She wore torn blue jeans, and her feet had Sofft Acasia boots. The woman had black long hair that only reached her shoulders. Her eyes were brown, and her expression was far away as if trying to escape some bad memory. Which also explained why she was on her fifth glass.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the bartender asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” the woman replied, “Not until I’m unconscious.”

“Well,” the bartender said walking towards her, “I do. You should go home.”

“You’re not my boss,” the woman said before draining the rest of her alcohol, “Another.”

“No, I’m cutting you off. You're not getting any more tonight,” the bartender said, “This is my bar, and if you don’t go home now and rest, I will not let you back in here.”

“Great,” the woman mumbled drunkenly as she stood up, “Now I have no choice but to head home since this is the only bar that allows me entrance.”

“Thank you,” the bartender said relieved.

The woman only grunted as she exited the bar, then she turned right and began heading down the sidewalk. As she did so she noticed that it had now turned dark and the streets were barren. _It’s so strange to see the city that never sleeps go quiet,_ the woman thought to herself. When she arrived at the curb of the sidewalk she didn’t even bother waiting for the signal to let her cross the road, since there weren’t even cars driving around. When she got to the otherside she continued walking, and was passing by an alley when she heard a crash. When she looked down the alley she saw something in the hand of a dark shape glint in the moonlight.

“Hey!” the woman yelled startling the man, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!”

“Well well,” the dark shape said in a Geordie accent, “This is rather unprecedented. Two whores ripe for the ripping.”

“Say that to my face, jerk!” the woman snapped angrily as she walked towards him.

“You whores are going to die,” the man replied, “It is my god-given right to rid the world of whores.”

The man then swiped down at her, but she caught his hand and squeezed breaking his wrist in the process. The man cried out in pain and surprise before glaring at her.

“Rid this you son of a bitch!” the woman snarled right before punching the man in the chest at the same time as she let go of his now broken wrist. The punch resulted in him going flying into a wall, and was rendered unconscious as he fell down to the ground.

“Who… what…” the woman laying on the ground in some trash from a fallen trashcan stammered.

“I’m Jessica Jones,” the woman replied as she hoisted the woman to her feet, “And you’re lucky I’m drunk. Otherwise, I would’ve just ignored the crash. Now go home.”

**Back with Sherlock…**

It was now morning and Sherlock was still in bed when John walked into the room. John sighed at Sherlock’s prone form half under the sheets and half over it. He also saw what looked like a syringe on the bedside table.

“Damn it Sherlock,” John muttered as he picked up the syringe, “That stuff will kill you.”

John then left the room and returned with a glass of cold water which he promptly tossed into Sherlock’s face causing him to splutter as he woke up with a start. Sherlock stared around the room sleepily before his brain finally woke up completely and he stared at John who was giving him his expression of disappointment.

“John,” Sherlock said slowly as he sat up on the bed, “Why are you in my room and why did you splash water on my face?”

“I’ll answer both with one answer Sherlock,” John replied, “I came in here to wake you up because Castle called and told me there was a survivor of the serial killer last night.”

“You could’ve just nudged me,” Sherlock grunted as he stood up to go over to his suitcase, “Throwing water on someone to wake them up is a bit overkill, don’t you think?”

“Not if you dosed yourself with heroin the night before,” John countered.

“What makes you think I…” began Sherlock before last night’s activities flashed in his eyes again, “Oh. That’s odd. I don’t usually forget things… unless they’re unimportant to any cases of course.”

“Just hurry up Sherlock,” John said massaging his face, “If you want to interrogate the survivor personally then we need to get there fast.”

“Go ahead and call the person, John,” Sherlock said, “That’ll pass the time till I’m ready to go out.”

“You take as long to get dressed as a woman does,” John snorted, “Are you sure you’re not transgender?”

“If I was John,” Sherlock said, “Then I wouldn’t be wearing men’s clothing now would I?”

“Sure you would,” John replied, “If you were a woman that decided to become a man.”

“Fair enough,” Sherlock conceded, “However, I am 100% male. Now go.”

**Later at the NYPD…**

“Sherlock! There you are!” the Detective Ryan said. “I was waiting for you to show up. Change of plans. We are going to meet the victim at the hospital. The victim, Agatha McAdams, isn’t feeling well enough to come into the station for questioning.”

“Why didn’t you just call?” Sherlock asked frustrated.

“We only had John’s phone number on record, we don’t seem to have yours,” Ryan said showing him the form they had to fill in earlier, or at least the form John filled in.

“Why didn’t John call me then,” Sherlock asked.

“Didn’t he tell you?” he asked, “He went out with his daughter to show her the city. Someone got him a brochure of the city and he found some interesting spots to visit. He thought he could go to Central Park, or to the Zoo in Central Park, or to the Museum of Modern Art. Haven’t realized just how many sites the city has to offer till you have to show a tourist around.”

“Yes, yes, but we have a case,” Sherlock said annoyed. John can get in the way of his investigations but he was his friend and him just leaving him stung him.

“And he has a daughter,” the cop said waving away his concerns about John’s absence. “My friend’s kid is all grown up now but when she was small he was just as protective as John.” The cop looked far away, then he shook his head and picked up some files and closed others, “Now let’s get to the hospital.”

**At the hospital…**

There was a knock at the hospital room.

“Agatha McAdams?” the nurse asked, “these nice policemen are here to ask you some questions. If you feel uncomfortable you can send them away at anytime.” He looked at Agatha for confirmation. She nodded.

The nurse looked at the police behind him, “You can come in.” The nurse left the room.

“Agatha McAdams?” Sherlock asked looking at the form of the girl who even with her size tried to make herself look as small as possible. She hugged her knees to her chest and looked like she might start crying again, adding to her already tearstained face. Sherlock took note of the bruised throat where her assailant had tried to hold her still. There was a bruise on her arm where she was grabbed. Along her jaw on one side ran a bandage probably from a cut that was meant for her throat.

While Sherlock was looking at the woman, the cop tried to get her attention. “We have a few question. My name is Detective Ryan and this is consulting detective Sherlock Holmes-”

“The detective with the funny hat,” the girl asked with a weak smile.

The cop looked at Sherlock.

“One picture and now everyone knows me as the ‘hat detective,’” Sherlock said bristling, “the hat was a one-off I assure you.”

“Right,” the cop continued gently, “and we are here to ask you to say or write down all you can recollect that happened to you. Take all the time you need.”

She nodded. “I was walking home from an afternoon with my friends. I don’t live far from where the we each split up so I walked the rest of the way. I stopped when I heard my phone ring and I wanted to check who it was. Then out of nowhere this guy comes out and I screamed before he could stop me. I’ve taken karate lessons when I was a kid but I wasn’t any good but I still remembered some of the lessons because I managed to stop him from cutting my throat open-” She started to shake, “Sorry, this is unlike me to be this emotional. I never thought-.” Her sentence ended in a sob.

“Take your time,” Detective Ryan reassured Miss McAdams.

“Preferably, you don’t,” Sherlock cut in, “the more we know the faster we can find him and stop him. At the moment his total amounts to three deaths happening at an exponential rate which means his next murder could happen today or tomorrow, since he didn’t get you he will take that anger out on someone else. Which is why we need to know what he looks like or we will have another body in the morgue by the end of tomorrow.” As per usual Sherlock favored being blunt when a person is wasting his time. The cop turned to him and gave him a not so subtle look to stop being insensitive. Agatha just looked at him blankly before her composure faltered and she put a hand over her mouth.

“It’s alright,” Detective Ryan rushed in to comfort the witness, “he’s used to dealing with bodies.” The Detective turned to Sherlock, “How about you go check if her doctor is back yet? Maybe you can get a look at her hospital records,” he turned to the witness, “if that’s alright with you?” Agatha nodded and looked as if she was trying really hard to calm down.

“Alright,” Sherlock said, he was more likely to actually get some useful information out of the doctor anyway. He turned to leave and shut the door on his way out. Before he got far, the cop opened the door again and seeing him said, “The closed door makes her feel trapped.” The cop turned back to Agatha.

Sherlock turned back around and went back to the main desk of the unit. Turning to the nurse he asked, “Is the Agatha McAdams’ doctor in?”

The nurse didn’t even respond as she was busy typing in her computer, so Sherlock tried to be patient but after five minutes he asked again but like before she didn’t respond. As Sherlock got more and more impatient he decided to grab something heavy, but before he could drop it on the desk in front of her another nurse walked up.

“Sir,” she said, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“For starters,” Sherlock said as he put the object down lightly, “tell me why Ignoramus over there didn’t even respond to me.”

“Her name is Sally,” the nurse said frowning, “And she’s deaf. She’s not even a nurse… not really. She’s more of a secretary than anything else.”

“I don’t care. As a secretary she should be aware of her job responsibilities,” Sherlock said looking around, “Now are you going to help me or shall I find someone much more useful than you and your ‘secretary?’”

“Why should I help a colossal tool like you,” the nurse said as she crossed her arms.

“I can give you several reasons Janet,” Sherlock said as he used his extremely high intelligence and his eyes to make deductions about her, “Reason number one, you’re a nurse so you don’t really have a choice. Reason number two, you dug your nails into your arm when you asked that question. That indicates your anger at either me for being who I am or yourself for even implying that you won’t. Reason number three is the most important reason because I’m investigating the attacker of Agatha McAdams.”

“Oh,” Nurse Janet said suddenly feeling bad, “Okay. I’ll tell you what I can, but the best person to ask is her doctor.”

“Where is her Doctor?” Sherlock asked, “That is who I was looking for in the first place.”

“Agatha’s doctor is currently performing surgery on another patient,” Nurse Janet said.

“In that case,” Sherlock said, “I’m leaving. I’m not going to wait around just to appease you morons’ love for protocol.”

**Later…**

Sherlock was not pleased. He had a case to solve which kept evading him.

The killer was obviously a Jack the Ripper fan. He was acting out a fantasy. He wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up at comic-con in a stereotypical Jack the Ripper costume.

An option is that was a scare tactic. As she did not state why this is happening he has come to make his own assumptions. Hire a mercenary to take out her family to threaten her and clearly Miss Olympia does not want to be threatened.

The Jack the Ripper persona was either for the benefit of the public or the mercenary was developing a hobby. If the latter was true then it was possible the killer might slip up. A job was a job but a hobby often lacks professionalism as evidently the last murder does.

Of what he’s seen, the latter must be true. There was a clear pattern of escalation from what little he had seen.

Understandably with Miss Olympia’s family absurd belief in the Greek mythology, the killer would want to play around with urban legends, in this way he would be sending a clear message of whom it was addressed to. Now the question is why. Sherlock would be a fool to really believe in Greek myths but even so why? Even if the family was targeted by “monsters”, what about it? A gang perhaps? Maybe Miss Olympia’s family was a gang which was involved in gang wars? So what if they reference Greek myths? If your rich some might let that slide. Money is everything. Religion, well, that’s usually ignored.

It’s obvious that the killer or mercenary who was hired to kill off Olympia’s family had his own preferences and portfolio. As Miss Olympia, who he presumed had connections, did not recognize the other victims, it can be assumed those people were insignificant. In this way, he can guess this was who the killer wanted to kill, and therefore this was his true preference. The killer was clearly inexperienced, back from a long period of dormancy. He obviously killed before but it was not recent as per the police records. The other option was he was too good to get caught before.

If one assumes that ‘Jack the Ripper’ was back, what could that be code for? Was it a signature of a gang? Seems like he needed to have a talk with Miss Olympia who, to him, revealed her name as ‘Athena’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Jessica Jones is now a part of the Sherlock based chapters. Unsure how much she'll appear in the story, but she does have a role to be played in the capture of Jack the Ripper.


	5. Non Est Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam go separate ways. Shocking reveal. Encounter with a Warrior Princess. Demonologist's first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to bring Constantine into the story, but i couldn't think of how else to start the chapter.

Chapter 4: Non Est Asylum

**Ravenscar Asylum in North Yorkshire…**

It was night time and inside of the room in the asylum was a blonde-haired man strapped to a hospital bed. The man had a shadow of a beard and wore a white shirt and white pants. He had two electrodes stuck onto his temples and he looked up at one of the nurses.

"Make 'em nice and tight luv," the man said in a Liverpudlian accent before laying his head back down onto the pillow.

The black-haired nurse then put a rubber bit into his mouth, and the patient began breathing heavily. He nodded to the man at the console. The next minute later electricity began coursing through him causing him to grunt loudly in pain.

_Believe it or not, I came here willingly. My name is John Constantine…_

Constantine was still groaning in pain from the electricity.

_And I'm an exorcist._

Constantine just sat there in the living room of the Asylum post-electric treatment as some patients became violent in the background causing the orderlies to come in to subdue them.

_In my line of work, there are days you just need to forget… but some you never will._

Constantine sat in an office that was very clean and had some bookshelves full of books. He stared at a swinging wooden tempo meter on the table in front of him. Across from Constantine was a man behind a desk, The man had white hair and was currently looking down at a folder.

"You witnessed the murder of a girl," the man said as he looked back up at him, "Talking can help you realize it wasn't your fault."

"That would be a neat trick," Constantine said agitated by the quick tempo of the meter, "Let's get to that part." He pushed himself away from the tempo meter and started to twirl his chair.

"You can start by telling me what happened that night at Newcastle," the man offered, "Do you remember the killer?"

"See that demon every night I close my eyes," Constantine replied.

"By demon," the man said a little unsuredly," You-you mean murderer?"

"Oh," Constantine replied, "By demon I mean a bloody demon. A foul creature. Smelled like a slaughterhouse."

"You see what's happening John?" the man asked, "You feel guilty for being unable to protect the girl, so you turned her killer into the embodiment of evil. We're all powerless against demons."

"Not all of us, chief," Constantine countered.

"That's right," the man said as he looked back down and read out of the file, "Before you checked yourself in here three months ago, you were working as an exorcist, demonologist, and master of the dark arts?"

"That says master, does it?" Constantine asked, "Well, I should really change that to petty dabbler. I hate to put on airs."

"In any case," the man said, "You wouldn't have been able to prevent the girl's death."

"Astra!" Constantine corrected as he began getting angry, "Her name was Astra, and I can handle her death. It's her damnation that's eating me alive. Dragged to hell…"

"John," the man said patiently, "It's time for you to face the truth."

"Nine years old and suffering for an eternity!" Constantine said as he got angrier.

"The only one suffering here is you," the man said calmly.

"That's on me mate," Constantine countered.

"There are no demons," the man assured.

"So you keep telling me!" Constantine yelled as he slammed his hands on the table before he added calmly, "Now make me believe. That's what I'm paying you for, isn't it?"

**Meanwhile, in America…**

Dean, Sam, and the demigod kid Sam helped were currently in a fastfood restaurant sitting down in a booth. Dean kept his right hand on his gun at all times while staring at the demigod with distrust and hate. Said gun was positioned in a way that it'd be hidden from the staff but easy to aim and shoot should the need arise. Sam, on the other hand, was on his computer again looking for more cases while also continuing his research into the Ultio fellow. Sam also listened to the new info the demigod told him.

"What was your name again?" Sam asked glancing at the kid right next to him who was looking around and every now and then glancing at Dean warily.

"Stephen," he replied trying to hide his exasperation with Dean. He understood that they dealt with monsters everyday but he could at least try not to alienate all his potential allies.

"You're going to have to forgive Dean's attitude toward you," Sam said for what felt like the hundredth time, "He currently doesn't like anything non-human. We lost two people dear to us a while ago."

Stephen just nodded, he got that but it still irritated him. Maybe he could get this errand done faster on his own. He wondered if it was too late to back out now. Stephen continued eating his food silently.

"We have had bad experiences with demigods," Sam said, "Though… he turned out to be an Archangel, but that's irrelevant right now. We haven't met many nice monsters in either case."

Deciding it was best to change the subject, "What do you think is the best route to Camp Jupiter?"

"What state and city is Camp Jupiter located in again?" Sam asked.

"San Francisco, California. Its entrance is a service tunnel near the main Caldecott Tunnel in the Oakland Hills. I've never actually been to Camp Jupiter, I've never had the excuse to make the trip across the country."

"It's 2,021.6 miles from here to there so it'll take us 30 hours to get there if we go via I-40 W," Sam replied as he took a sip of his water.

"You don't happen to know anything fast, would you?" asked Stephen, "With all the supernatural stuff you've encountered, there must be something faster. You don't happen to know someone with a pegasus stable near here?"

"Come again?" Dean asked.

"Well, in camp there was a pegasus stable, for rides and stuff, you know, when the pegasus felt like it that is. Some had a bad temper, you should meet Blackjack, Percy said he has a very colorful vocabulary," Stephen replied. He smiled slightly as he stared into his cup of coffee, he looked far away in thought. After what happened at Camp Half-Blood, he can't help think of all the things he took for granted. All those good memories that were made there...

"I can accept demigods and snake ladies being real," Dean said, "But come on! Flying talking horses? The hell is this? A Disney film?" With all that Dean's encountered in his life that sounded bizarrely out of place with the horror of the supernatural world.

"Actually, only Percy could understand them since his dad's Poseidon, you know, the inventor of horses. But then again, I guess you could understand Frank when he shapeshifted into various animals. But trust me, Disney got plenty of things wrong, Heracles is a jerk for one thing, luckily he's tied up at the moment with his full-time job." All this talk about the Greek world was reminding him of how the camp is destroyed and the gods are not even pitching in to get things cleaned up. When he was by himself he didn't have time to think, too many monsters after him to offer him a respite. Now, his brain was catching up to what happened, all the friends he's lost. His family was massacred and he's here trying to talk strategy and act like everything is fine talking to these strangers. He's only fifteen for Zeus' sake!

"The more you say," Dean said with a strange look, "The more I think you're nutballs."

"Dean!" Sam said sharply giving him a subtle look.

"What?" Dean asked innocently.

"If anyone should be crazy it's us," Sam said, "We both went to Hell, you were in Purgatory, we died who knows how many times, and most people would think the idea that dragons could take human form is nuts but we saw dragons in human form. Also, give the kid a break. He just lost all of his friends."

"Hello," said a voice from the booth behind theirs, "Did you say Heracles?"

When Sam, Dean, and Stephen looked towards the voice they saw a brunette with long straight hair that looked like a Lucy Lawless in her prime.

"Yeah," Stephen said slightly dazed from the earlier discussion. "Ya, um, and who are you?" He thought it was better not to let slip the family connection, most people don't react well to that. He's already got the Winchesters thinking he was nuts, better to be more tactful.

"My name is Xena," the woman replied, "For your information Heracles or Hercules as he's more commonly known isn't a jerk. In fact he's my oldest friend. The only one that still exists anyway."

"Right-" Dean said, seems they have a two for one deal today on the crazy, "I'm Dean, that's Sam-"

"Hi," Sam waved.

"I know who you are," Xena said, "You're famous in the supernatural circles, which is why Stephen is not safe with you two."

"Woah," Stephen protested, "Hold on a second, I need a ride, not a babysitter."

"Stephen," Xena said, "Your father requested that I keep you safe. I only revealed myself to you now, because they have found you again."

"So now the Gods do something?" Stephen said exasperated, "what about when the camp was raided, they could have at least warned us."

"The Gods are unable to do anything," Xena said, "The Rising Darkness is keeping them locked in Olympus. I count as a sort of loophole in the situation. Unfortunately, I was unable to go help your friends. I may have the power to kill Gods but I don't have the power to fight an entire army of experienced army of hunters that spent their entire lives killing non-humans. Besides, I swore on the river Styx that I would never go near Long Island Sound or San Francisco. You know how binding those oaths are. Sam, Dean, take Stephen and go when I give the signal."

"What Rising Darkness?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Xena replied, "I may be an agent of the Gods but I don't know anything they don't know or don't wish to tell me. All I know is that the Rising Darkness has changed the rules."

"Where are we supposed to go? Do you at least have a faster way to travel?"

"We would have Cas teleport us or just you where you need to go," Dean said bitterly, "But the Devil stabbed him in the back right before he and my mom got themselves trapped in a parallel reality."

"Do you have passports?" asked Xena.

"We're hunters, crazy lady," Dean said raising an eyebrow, "If you're as well experienced in the supernatural as you say you are then you know we have many."

"Dean," Sam said, "Be nice. Even though I highly doubt she's old enough to be best friends with Hercules or Heracles, whatever he calls himself, it's not right to call anyone crazy."

"I am hoping you have proper passports to not risk getting caught by the police when you fly to California," Xena said reaching into her coat pocket and taking out three plane tickets.

"No way!" Dean objected, "I'm not going into a plane!"

"This is serious, so I highly recommend you take some sleeping pills for the flight or something of the kind to relax you," Xena quickly brushed away his protests.  _A soldier should not back down from an order over something so trivial. But they are human after all._

"Then Sam can go," Dean said stubbornly, "I'm staying off of planes no matter what. Besides, I'm not leaving my Baby abandoned in an airport."

"Stephen has many monsters chasing him, they will not abandon chase so easily, he needs all the protection he can get," Xena said sternly.

"Fine," Dean grunted, "If the plane crashes you're ass is haunted."

"Then I will salt and burn your bones so that does not happen, but it will not come to that, the Gods will make sure the plane arrives quickly and safely to its destination." At this point Xena attempted a joke to ease Dean's anxiety which resulted in the opposite response.

"What if someone steals my car while I'm away?!" Dean demanded.

"Then that's your problem," Xena said before she took off her bracelet and threw it as she barked, "Run!"  _Time for a distraction._

As the bracelet flew it grew into a bladed ring-like disk, and it's target didn't have time to react as it rammed into his head knocking him back. It then flew at the wall before bouncing off of it and returned to her hand.

"Come on you demon bastards," Xena said pulling out a sword from her right hip, "Take on somebody your own size!"

"Okay," Dean decided as he looked back once they were outside, "She's for real."

"Dean!" Sam yelled from the car, "Hurry up!"

"You slow down Gigantor!" Dean replied as he continue running to the car alongside Stephen, "Nobody else has your long legs."

"Just drive," Sam said as Dean got into the driver's seat while Stephen got into the backseat.

"What kind of weapon did she just throw?" Dean asked nobody in particular.

"It's called a Chakram," Stephen replied, "They're rare though. Also not allowed in Camp Half-Blood because someone got decapitated during a game of capture the flag and Chiron wasn't happy."

"I don't give a damn if it's rare," Dean said, "It's freaking awesome. Also, that capture the flag… nearly my style. In real life you have to react as if you're going to get killed. Your camp clearly doesn't teach you the most important skill. Specifically that there are no second chances in real life. No mercy. No nothing. Reminds me of high school, right Sammy?"

"Dean," Sam said looking straight ahead with widened eyes.

"Ah shit," Dean said when he saw a guy taller than the restaurant standing in front of the Impala. Before the giant could grab them, Dean hit reverse and sped out of the parking lot before putting the car into forward gear and speed them down the street as he asked, "The hell is that thing?!"

"How should I know," Sam countered, "You know what it is Stephen?"

"I think that was a Laistrygonian giant," replied Stephen.

"What? Is that a pastry?" Dean asked as he made a sharp turn to the right.

"No it's a type of giant who has cannibalistic tendencies. They like to use clubs and rocks as their weapons of choice so we need to go before the giant throws something at us," Stephen recited from memory of the lectures the counselors used to give on survival skills.

"Whoever came up with them needs to be shot!" Dean said, "Same goes for the guy who invented rap! They're both so damn annoying!"

Suddenly the ground in front of them cracked open causing Dean to stomp on the breaks, and to Dean and Sam's shock a chariot came out of the ground with some guy in black ancient Greek armor driving it.

"Oh, Hades," Stephen said half-swearing half in realization after seeing the God of the Underworld driving the chariot.

"Do you mean 'oh, hell'" Dean asked, "Or is that the newcomer's name?"

"Both. From what I know that looks very much like Hades. Lets hope he gets rid of the monsters because the three of us wouldn't fit into that chariot." Stephen was terrified that Hades might just go ' _Hi. Sorry for interrupting, please go on. I just had to have front-row seats to your demise. I've brought my own popcorn!_ '  _That's the thing about being a demigod_ , Stephen thought,  _you didn't know if the deus ex machina was going to kill you or help you, and all that just because of your parentage._

"Yeah," Dean said, "Besides, I'm not leaving my baby to the mercy of a giant cannibal caveman." He caressed the dashboard of his car as if to sooth the car's fears.

"Don't worry he won't eat your car, he'll just probably throw it at us if we leave it behind," Stephen said trying to irritate Dean. In a life-or-death situation he would pick himself over some object. In part because any object he got attached to could end up destroyed because of the craziness of monsters turning up in the randomest places. After an unfortunate incident with his baseball card collection, he learned the hard way that nothing was safe or sacred.

"Oh, that's a relief," Dean said sarcastically. No way was a kid going to tell him how it's going to be.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," Hades said as the chariot stopped next to the driver's side of the Impala, "Whatever you do. Don't move a muscle, unless you want to be including in the incineration."

"Hades!" bellowed the Laestrygonian, "Stay out of the way! This does not concern you!"

"To the contrary, Beast," Hades said as he summoned a fireball in his hand, "You start chasing my son and it becomes my business. Especially one who has saved all of reality multiple times." The passengers of the Impala just looked on wide-eyed and confused.

"What's he talking about?" Dean asked Sam but the only response he got was a shrug. Even Stephen was confused and he knows more about this than the Winchesters.  _What son?_

"The only son you got's not here," the giant said while scratching his head, "I got it! You are a gone stupid god! About-"

Suddenly the giant erupted into flames and screamed in agony as it dropped the celestial bronze club he was holding.

"NEVER call me stupid, Beast!" Hades yelled angrily, "For that I'm slinging you into Tartarus!"

"Remind me to never get on Hothead's bad side," Dean said with a little chuckle.

Stephen didn't know how the whole meeting a God thing was supposed to work. Was he supposed to bow or grovel or sacrifice a goat in thanks?

"Hey!" Dean yelled as he got out of the car, "I would say thanks for the help and all Mr Flamethrower, but for all I know you sent el Barbecue over there after us."

 _So much for etiquette and tradition_ , Stephen thought.

**With Constantine…**

"So John," said the voice of the driver in the front of the Taxi, "What brings you back to the states?"

"Remember Jasper?" Constantine said as he pulled out a cigarette. Constantine was now in his normal clothes. His outfit comprised of a white button down shirt with a red tie that was tied loosely around his neck under a tan long coat that only reached his thighs. He wore black suit pants, and black dress shoes to finish off the ensemble.

"What about him?" the driver asked.

"He sent me on a mission to save his daughter," Constantine answered as he lit the cigarette.

"Must be really time sensitive if he decided to forgo the proper channels being dead and all," the driver remarked.

"Aye," Constantine confirmed as he breathed in on the cigarette, "So I advise you step on it old son. I have a debt to repay."

"I'm going the limit," the driver replied, "If we go any higher we'll get pulled over and then more time will be wasted."

"Then wake me when we get to Atlanta," Constantine said as he tossed the cigarette out the window.

**Back with the Winchesters…**

"Thanks for saving us and all but we've got it from here." Dean said gruffly to Hades. After Hades saved them, he explained a few things that Dean didn't want to get into. Saying it outloud would have made it too real.

"Though I am not one for long discussions, I'm learning the benefits of clearing the air. It was safer for you not knowing, but recently the prophecy has come to pass and you have nothing to fear," Hades paused, "I am proud of you. I have followed your adventures and though I could not interfere without drawing attention to you, I have always wished to finally meet you."

"You're not my dad!" Dean said angrily, "John Winchester was and always will be my dad! I'm not one of those freaks that were killed in New York, and I never will be!" For a second, Dean understood why John was so distant from him, but how could he have known? No, he couldn't have, could he? No, this is ridiculous. He is John's son. That's the end of that. He knew how gods worked, Hades could never be his dad.

"I understand, it is a lot to take in. I just hoped to know the man you are now," Hades said simply. Too many years were lost, he can not be his father but he can be his friend and ally.

"If you truly gave a damn about me then why did you let so many of my friends die?!" Dean yelled, "Why didn't you stop Joe, Bobby, and so many others from dying!?"

"It would have drawn too much attention to you. Besides, I collect the dead, the living are not apart of my domain. I am not responsible for the decisions of others. Gods do not meddle in the affairs of mortals."

"You meddled just now!" Dean yelled, "You're a hypocrite!"

"Yes, and I just broke the promise which all the gods had to make. You were about to die and the message you were to deliver was too important."

"I don't give a damn about the demigods!" Dean yelled as his fists tightened, "For all I care they can rot in hell!"

"Why? What are they so different from the mortals which you protect?" Hades inquired.

"Oh, I don't know," Dean said sarcastically, "Oh, wait I do! Humans don't have paranormal abilities! Only monsters, demons, and angels do!"

"Not all demigods have powers. Some are too young to protect themselves. Others are oblivious to their heritage."

"Then those ones are safe from me," Dean said, "If I had known about the demigods before Sam decided there were some good monsters I would've gone hunting them as well as every vampire, werewolf, wendigo, and ghoul out there. The only reason why I'm not gutting that freak that's hiding behind Sam is because I have no desire to fight my brother."

"You still have not answered why you truly cannot stomach their existence."

"Yes, I did," Dean said, "I hunt monsters, and that means anything not human. You're lucky I don't have an evergreen stake right now otherwise I'd stick you like in one of those old vampire flicks."

"But what is it to you, that makes them monsters?" Hades asked again ignoring Dean's threat. Dean cannot go on thinking as he did. Dean walked a delicate line, he was a demigod but he hated demigods. He has the advantages of both worlds and could annihilate either one. He was a son of Hades, if he were to learn of his true potential, he could rain death and destruction on whomever he pleased. If he wasn't protected like he was, he could have razed Olympus or have been killed long ago.

"I'm done with this conversation," Dean said, "Sam, c'mon. Dickhead there can take the freak where he wants." He turned around ready to get away from his nightmare but Sam didn't budge.

"I'm not leaving Stephen behind Dean," Sam said as he gritted his teeth, "I know you're grieving over Cas and Mom, but your prejudice is going too far this time." Sam started walking in the direction of the entrance to the airport.

"Sam," Dean called to him, "You leave now, you better not come back." After the talk with Hades, Dean was in no mood to deal with his brother. What Dean needed was a couple of good drinks and a night to sleep this off.

"Fine, Dean," Sam called back, "Have it your way." Sam walked in the direction of the Terminal that the tickets indicated. Stephen already checked in his baggage waiting near security.

"Did you make sure to leave all your weapons behind?" Stephen asked, too late realizing he had a bronze dagger hidden in his backpack. He hoped the celestial bronze made it undetectable or maybe he could say it's a limited edition collector's item from some TV show.

"Ya," Sam looked at him, "did you?" Seeing his face he realized he didn't. "If anyone asks, I'm in the FBI and you're my son and that is a toy."

"Got it." Stephen said, keeping his head down to not draw the attention of the airport staff.

**Some distance away, watching the small group…**

The green-scaled woman with two tails hissed in frustration. First the warrior appears, then Hades. She was lucky the warrior did not spot her. Luckily by the time Hades appeared she already moved farther from the moving car.

The Laistrygonian giant was an inconvenience for she wanted to be the one to avenge her sisters. Laistrygonian giants were slow that way. They did not understand the benefits of planning.

The group might have split up but now they were going through security. This calls for more back-up. The demigods cannot get to the camp. The time for spying was done. It was clear that they were alone. The demigods were scattered, they did not pose a threat when they were alone. They are of no more use to them.

The dracaena slithered away to report to her superior officer.

**Meanwhile, in Atlanta at night…**

Constantine was currently in a bar talking to the barkeep when the man who drove him to Atlanta walked up.

"No, you're off your head. You'd probably say the Supremes or something. I can understand what you mean with…" said Constantine before he saw the man then continued, "Oh, Chas, just in time to settle a bet. The most influential band. Barkeep here reckons the Ramones for the music, which is... well, it's fair enough, but the Pistols, come on, man, the Pistols, they were dangerous."

"Liv stopped by the mill house to get her bags. Said something about a cousin in California," Chas said ignoring Constantine, "She's isn't coming back, John."

"Hmm," Constantine sighed before he said, "Guess we're not all cut from the same cloth."

"Is she safe out there?" Chas asked.

"She will be," Constantine replied, "With Furcifer gone I can put a cloaking spell on her."

"Yeah," Chas said before he pulled out a map with red blood spots on it, "Before she left, Liv spent an hour in the map room scrying like you taught her. Look. It's happening everywhere. She wants you to keep fighting. She sounded a lot like her father when she said it, too."

"Did she now?" Constantine asked, "Hmm."

"Maybe you'll never forgive yourself for what happened to Astra, but if you want to give her loss some meaning, then do something about it," Chas reasoned.

Constantine's response was to grunt before he raised his glass of alcohol before he said, "Cheers." He did not want the reminder of his past failure. At least now there was one less person in harm's way. People close to him have a tendency to die it was easier to work alone.

"Interesting coincidence. Ritchie had to drive 20 blocks out of the way to pass Edgewood Avenue and stumble onto that crime scene," Chas said with suspicion etched into his voice.

"Mm," Constantine said, "He made me pay for gas."

"You scared her away," Chas said accusingly.

Constantine's response was to click his tongue before he said, "Kind of the point, mate. I work better alone."

"You fail to grasp the stakes here, John," Chas said in disappointment, "Liv's power is valuable."

"So is her life," Constantine countered, "If Liv was gonna join our fight, she had the right to see the risks for herself. All I did was... Give her a choice."

Constantine's expression then turned sour before he added, "Which is more than Astra ever had."

"You said 'our' fight," Chas said, "That mean you're going to help us?"

"Well, that's what you wanted, isn't it?" Constantine chuckled, "And you call me a con man."

Constantine then stood up then looked to his fellow drinkers as he said, "Pick up the tab, will you? You bastards are going to owe me."

Constantine then turned and headed out of the bar.

_My name is John Constantine. I am the one who steps from the shadows, all trench coat and arrogance._

When he turned and alley he saw a goat's head so he doused his hands with flammable liquid. and stopped when he saw men walk up surrounding him.

_I'll drive your demons away, kick 'em in the bollocks and spit on them when they're down, leaving only a nod and a wink and a wisecrack._

Constantine then flicked the lighter he had under his hands, which caused his hands to become engulfed in flame as he spread his arms out. The men then ran away shouting in fear.

_I walk my path alone because, let's be honest… who would be crazy enough to walk it with me?_

**Back with Dean…**

Dean was driving down the streets of Missouri without any real goal in mind as he thought over the day's events. As he thought over what the last thing he said to Sam was he tightened his hands on the steering wheel in anger towards himself.

**Somewhere in another part of the world…**

A woman had just finished drawing a picture which showed John Constantine with his hands aflame, and Dean Winchester driving on the road of Missouri.

"Gotcha," said the woman. The room around her was comprised of pictures of Dean and John that she had drawn herself.


	6. Alias

Chapter 5: Alias

 

Sherlock stood in the hallway of the Empire State building. He was told that if he needed to contact Miss Olympia, he had to state his business to the receptionist. It was an odd method to contact someone but knowing Miss Olympia's Greek mythology fetish he could let it slide. On the other hand, she could have given him fake contact information and was just playing a prank in trying to waste his time on this case. For all he knew, Miss Olympia got the families to agree on allowing her to pretend to know her either by paying them generously or by simply to meet Sherlock due to his celebrity status. This case in itself was highly irregular. He knew Greek mythology was just a bunch of narratives but his client believes in them.

"Hello," Sherlock said and glanced around, "I need to see Miss Olympia."

The receptionist sighed and looked up stating, "For the last time, there is no 600th floor in this building." The man looked tired and twitchy. After the last couple of weeks he felt like it was last year all over again. This time though, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

"I didn't say there was," Sherlock replied giving him an odd look. The building clearly could not have more than the 102 floors it claimed to have. On the other hand, it could have just been a slip of the tongue or the man's fatigue talking. There was a clear coffee stain on his pants, might be another bigger one on the carpet. This man clearly had had a long day. By his attitude and the long shifts he either needed the money or just didn't have anything better to do. Of course that was none of his concern, he needs to sort this nonsense about the Olympia family out with Miss Olympia. "I was told to ask you if I need to contact Miss Olympia."

The man had a deer-in-headlights look, "Sorry, some kids keep coming and trying to play jokes during their field trips." The receptionist took out some paper and handed it to Sherlock. "Write down what you need to tell her, I'll pass it on."

"Thank you." Sherlock said quickly, wrote down a quick note and headed back to the police station.

**At the NYPD….**

"Sherlock, where did you go?" asked Detective Ryan as soon as he saw Sherlock enter the office space of the police station.

"I tried to reach a contact, but she was unreachable," Sherlock replied bluntly. He really was not in a good mood and he didn't want to deal with someone questioning his every move.

"Okay. Anyway, someone's here to see you," Ryan said dismissively. He clearly saw how twitchy Sherlock was, or maybe that was just his usual behaviour. The man really thought he was smarter than everyone in the room, didn't he? Sherlock needed to learn that being the smarter one didn't make him the better person.

As Sherlock was led by the officer, he saw that Miss Olympia was already waiting for him.

"Mr. Holmes," she said in greeting. She looked almost exactly the same as he saw her last time. She was like a photo or a statue, she appeared to be unmovable and static. She really believed she was a goddess didn't she? She certainly tried to appear that way.

"Miss Olympia," Sherlock said primly, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I heard you wanted to see me, so I came," she replied simply. This, Sherlock did not expect. He would have thought that if she was at the Empire State Building she would have simply come to greet him. Odd how she came when he was looking for her, maybe she was simply trying to emulate the Greek goddess of wisdom she introduced herself as.

"We need to talk," Sherlock said bluntly.

"I gathered that," Athena replied.

"I need a straight answer from you, no evasions, no metaphorical answers, but clean and clear-cut answers for once. If you feel uncomfortable talking about your family in a police station then we will go someplace else, but you will tell me just what your family does seeing as there is no record of your family or none under the names you gave me," Sherlock said frustrated with Miss Olympia. He loved a good mystery but what she was proposing wasn't fact but fiction. Therein he can't build an investigation on a flimsy piece of faith that would blow over in the next second. He needs concrete evidence. None of this faith business.

"I'm fine where we are, but if you feel uncomfortable here we can go somewhere else," Miss Olympia countered as if he was the fragile-minded one. Athena knew how it must look but until Sherlock accepted what she said, he would not know where to look. He was looking for a human killer when the killer could be a monster who used the Mist to his/her advantage, or a shapeshifter or, any other dozens of monsters that can't be tracked by human means. He needed to expand his methods and he had to do it before any more demigods were killed. Camp Half-Blood was already massacred, this meant less demigods to keep the monsters at bay. Of course the gods can't do anything, the demigods are the ones who use their free will, the gods simply advise in mortal matters. If the enemy was another god who could be clearly identified and located that would have been another matter, Zeus would just love to smite someone who could be blamed for all their troubles.

"Fine," Sherlock agreed, he hoped a more private location would make her feel more comfortable with him and reveal more than she were to in a police station, "I originally began this investigation on my own without the authorities, so I'll finish it on my own. John can work with them if he wants though. Let's go back to my hotel flat then."

**At Sherlock's Flat…**

"Why do you refuse to tell me who you really are," Sherlock said after Athena repeated the same absurd story. Sherlock could be patient but at this moment it served no purpose and only impeded the investigation.

"I respect you too much to lie," Athena replied and ignored her urge to add 'my son', "I considered not even speaking to you directly at first, but then I would be playing you for a fool. I am giving you the facts, whether or not you choose to believe them is up to you. I know the truth but whether or not you accept them, I can only provide you with the choice." Gods were not allowed to meddle, every decision made must be taken freely by the questers. It was a frustrating rule but a rule nonetheless.

_Just great_ , Sherlock sarcastically thought,  _again with this 'I'm a goddess but I'm not going to give you proof because of free will'._

Athena knew full well what must had been going through his head but would not be swayed from her position on the matter.

"So hypothetically speaking," Sherlock began saying though internally he was thinking more along the lines of metaphors as he can not accept her delusions, "If Zeus exists, then Jack the Ripper is not out of the question?"

"Of course not," Athena replied, "he is a real person or persons, depending on which victims you count as being murdered by the aforementioned person. Jack the Ripper coming back to life is possible or him being reincarnated-"

"I meant now," Sherlock pressed, "Is it possible that the figure who is known as Jack the Ripper could be walking the streets of New York  _now_?" He spoke slowly and hoped that she would give him the answers he needed without the doublespeak.

Athena looked at him with a calculating manner, she pretended to consider his proposition. She knew full well that this complicated things, "Are you proposing that Jack the Ripper is back from the dead killing demigods?"

"The evidence points to it," Sherlock answered, "do you have a family member- or an enemy of your family- who fancies themselves Jack the Ripper?" Sherlock wondered how extensive is this club of theirs which pretend to be gods.

"I will get my uncle to find out where Jack should be at this moment, though clearly he escaped," Athena stated. The question was: in which afterlife was Jack the Ripper housed? Given the time period, he could have been a Protestant as he was from Germany or he could have been an atheist and been sent to the void. Looks like she's going to need to call Hades so he can assemble the gods of the various underworlds.

"You do that," Sherlock said skeptically, eventually he would have to have her followed to see if he can find any other members of her family, but not today. Suddenly his phone rang and Sherlock immediately answered it ending the previous conversation. Athena took this as a sign that she was dismissed, left the way she came in, and left Sherlock to his business.

"Sherlock," said Detective Ryan, "the survivor or witness, whatever you want to call her, just finished making her statement."

"Continue," Sherlock said as he leaned back in his chair while Athena left his flat. They both were not concerned with all the usual pointless polite farewells.

"Her attacker wielded a black dagger of sorts," Detective Ryan said as he read off his notes, "She was unable to see his face as it was hidden by shadow and wore a hoodie. She was able to tell us of how she survived."

"Go on," Sherlock urged as he became impatient.

"She was rescued by a drunken woman," Detective Ryan said with a tone of annoyance, "That woman's name was Jessica Jones."

"Where do I find this Jessica Jones?" Sherlock asked as he got up from his chair and headed for where his coat hung.

"485 W 46th St," Detective Ryan said, "If you ask me, she's a menace that deserves to be in prison."

"Some people say the same about me," Sherlock said, "And yet you like me."

"I tolerate you," Detective Ryan corrected, "It's Castle and Kate that like you."

"Noted," Sherlock said, "Oh and Detective?"

"Yes?" Detective Ryan said in suspicion.

"The game is on," Sherlock said as he walked out of his flat before ending the call. He just couldn't help wanting to have the final word in any matter.

**Meanwhile, at Jessica Jones' apartment…**

Jessica slowly opened her eyes and stared up at her ceiling. Her apartment was pretty bare, and only had the essentials for her investigations, sleep, and mealtimes. She currently lay in her bed with the covers half on her and half off. She was in nothing but her underwear, and next to her was a guy that was completely passed out. After a couple minutes of waiting to let her wake up some more she got up and immediately got dressed before gathering some zip ties. Thankfully the man was still asleep so she was able to tie his wrists to the headboard. As soon as she was done she went to her desk and picked up the phone to call someone, but before she could someone knocked on the door to her apartment. The door had a glass window which had "Alias Investigations" written in bold. Jessica started dialing the phone, but stopped when the knocking became persistent. At that point she groaned as she stood up and headed to the door.

"I'm not taking any more cases at this time," Jessica said through the door as soon as she stood in front of it, "Besides I'm in the middle of one right now."

"Open up Jessica Jones," said a feminine voice from behind the door.

"Not happening sister," Jessica said snippily.

"Don't make me kick this door down and arrest you for obstructing justice," the voice said impatiently.

"Alright fine," Jessica said as she opened the door a little, "sheesh. What do you want?"

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett and this is Richard Castle," the presumed Kate Beckett said introducing herself and her partner.

"I know who you two are," Jessica frowned, "Can't get away from articles all about Casket. Now tell me why you're here or I'll just slam the door in your face."

"Straight to the point then," Kate said, "a few nights ago you saved a woman from a would-be killer."

"You got the wrong girl," Jessica said frowning again, "I'm not the hero type."

"She mentioned you by name Ms. Jones," Kate said frowning as well, "We have some questions that can't wait."

"Well they're going to have to wait," Jessica replied, "I have a time sensitive case as well, and I was just about to close it when you knocked on the door. I'll come by when I'm done."

"Ms. Jones-" began Kate before Castle interrupted her.

"Kate," Castle said, "I have a feeling that this is a woman that you don't want to piss off… especially not long after she woke up."

"Fine," Kate sighed, "Ms. Jones. I'll be waiting, and if you don't show up at all I'll have you arrested."

"That's what they all say," Jessica said before shutting the door and heading back to her desk, but when she passed by the doorway to her bedroom she saw that the window was open and the man wasn't there anymore.

"Shit," Jessica cursed as she ran to the window and looked out. When she looked down she saw the man running away in nothing but his boxers. She immediately climbed out and jumped down to the sidewalk and ran after him. She noticed a man with curly black hair wearing a black coat and a blue scarf walk passed her, but didn't even care as her attention was on catching her prey.

Sherlock stopped as he recognized Jessica from a picture he saw once in a newspaper and turned around. He saw Jessica running down the sidewalk, and when he looked further he saw the man she was chasing. He quickly went into his mind palace and looked at the map to find the best route to catch this man. Once he had, he ran down an alley and kept running. Occasionally he made a turn to the right or left, and more often than not, jumping over vehicles. As soon as he reached his target destination he leapt and tackled the man clad in his boxers. That sent them tumbling around on the ground till boxer-man hit Sherlock hard enough to knock him off and stood up to run away. However, Sherlock was quick and pulled out a taser which he shot into the man's back causing him to fall down and spasm from the electricity coursing through his body.

"Now that I've helped you catch your prey, Ms Jones," Sherlock said as Jessica arrived and hurried to pick boxer-man up, "I do request an audience."

"I'm busy," Jessica replied as she estimated the force needed to jump onto a rooftop.

"I'm aware," Sherlock replied, "However, the case I'm working on involves you and is very important that I solve it. Unlike the authorities, I won't push you as much as I'd like to, because I know you'll just push back just like I would. Just give me a call when you're ready to grant me an interview."

Sherlock then gave Jessica a slip of paper with his phone number before she jumped from the sidewalk onto a rooftop in one go. Sherlock just stared there with his eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"That's impossible," Sherlock said to himself as he promptly turned around and headed back to his hotel flat,  _There is no way a human could be able to do that. Maybe… no that delusion of Ms. Olympia's is merely that… a delusion. Maybe that heroin I had a few nights ago is affecting my mind. That must be it. Maybe John is right… I should stop using drugs._

**Later that day…**

Sherlock was cross legged as he went through his mind palace and reviewed the details on the case when someone began knocking on the door to his flat. Sherlock immediately walked over to it and opened the door to see who it was. Just as he had expected, Jessica Jones stood outside of his flat.

"Ms. Jones," Sherlock said as he stepped aside, "Why don't you come on in? I have the kettle on if you'd like a cuppa."

"I'm granting you your audience," Jessica said bluntly as she hesitantly walked inside the flat, "Nothing more, nothing less. Now what is it you need from me?"

"I just need you to answer a couple questions," Sherlock replied as he walked over to his chair and sat down, "As soon as you're comfortable we'll begin."

Jessica followed him into the room and started taking in her surroundings.

"First things first, do you remember anything about the attacker?"

"Are you working with the cops?!" Jessica looked at him sharply.

"No," Sherlock said, "They're working with me on occasion. I have my own partner, but he's busy playing the role of a dad right now. Based on your question and the police car parked outside of your apartment earlier today I can logically assume that you were confronted by the NYPD today, correct."

"Yeah," Jessica said, "They were the reason my prey had escaped. A normal civil person would say thanks, but I'm not a normal civil person. Consider me granting you your audience as me repaying a debt."

"Very well," Sherlock said, "Now please tell me what you remember from that night."

"Going to a bar, ordering a drink, and then waking up in bed the next morning," Jessica replied, "That's it."

"No," Sherlock said.

"No?" Jessica asked.

"No," Sherlock replied, "The mind is like a computer, and like a computer the memories and knowledge you gain reside there. However, the alcohol you consumed made it so that the memory you would normally have from that night would be in hidden somewhere in the files and folders that contain your knowledge. You just have to find the right one."

"Uh huh," Jessica said, "You do know that nobody's mind actually works like that, right?"

"Mine does," Sherlock argued, "With my mind I can access my mind palace whenever I want, but with someone of a lower intelligence you need prodding or something else that can get you to remember."

"Are you calling me stupid?" Jessica asked getting angry. If this guy kept at it, he was definitely not getting out of this room in one piece.

"Don't think anything of it," Sherlock said dismissively, "Compared to me, most people are morons."

"I'm surprised anyone would want to work with you," Jessica said frowning, "You're an ass."

"From everything I've read on you, you are as much of an ass as me," Sherlock said, "You tend to piss people off. We, Miss Jones, are two peas in a pod as you Americans say."

"Okay," Jessica said as she stood up to leave, "Well, you can go screw yourself and I'm going to leave. Good luck on solving your case on your own."

"Miss Jones," Sherlock said, "It's very important I solve this case."

"I'm sure it is," Jessica said, "You'll just have to solve it without me."

"Normally I would," Sherlock said, "But this case is very reminiscent of the Ripper killings of 1888. I don't have the luxury of doing this alone, and unless you want the deaths of many more women on your mind, neither do you. I, for one, would like to keep whatever sliver of a conscious I have clean. When you decide to work on this case yourself, you know where to find me and you have my number so you can call."

"Don't hold your breath," Jessica said right before she slammed the hotel room's door shut, "I'm not going to call or come back here to help you."

"Talking with people is so much easier with John here to lessen the impact of my questions and statements," Sherlock said, "Speaking of, he should've been back by now."

**Five minutes earlier, with John…**

John was walking down the street going to buy some things from the nearest convenience store. He finally got Rosie asleep for her nap just before the babysitter arrived and decided to restock on some baby supplies.

As he turned the corner he saw someone collapse and another person started calling for help. John rushed to the scene.

"I'm a doctor, I can help," John said loudly, "can someone call for an ambulance!?"

John did the usual routine, checked for danger, breathing and so on. Then he noticed something odd, it almost looked like a puncture mark-.

As John leaned in to get a better look someone brushed against him and he started to feel dizzy.

"It's contagious," John thought he heard someone yell, "my brother doesn't look well, everyone clear out before it spreads!" As the crowd began to thin as a car drove to the curve near the scene.

"Can someone help me get my brother in the car," the strangely accented man asked the few who remained at the scene. No one seemed to question why the two supposed brothers had two different accents. Or why the supposed brother wasn't initially there. Or who the driver of the car was.

As the car sped away no one seemed to question the odd turn of events on the street. All eyes were on the fallen pedestrian and not the odd scene with the doctor who tried to help.

**Five minutes later…**

A cop car arrived on the scene and a female detective known by the public as Detective Kate Beckett because of Casket got out of the driver's side. Richard Castle followed suit much to the delight of the onlookers, and some of the onlookers squealed out like fangirls… which some of them were. As usual Richard turned to the onlookers and waved before hurrying up to where Kate now stood.

"Ooof," Castle said as he covered his mouth and nose, "This guy's ripe. He can't be fresh."

"Nice deducing skills Castle," Kate replied as she knelt by the body with her hand covering her nose and mouth too, "Next time when I ask for the obvious, I'll ask you."

"I'm going to go get by adoring fans to be quiet so you can work," Castle said as he backed away from the stench.

_Yeah you do that,_  thought Kate as she pulled out a handkerchief so she could touch the corpse if need be. However, as she was doing so the sound of another vehicle could be heard as it parked. When she turned around she saw that it was the M.E's vehicle so she quickly stood back up and backed out of the stench as she headed to the vehicle.

"Lanie," Kate said with a small friendly smile before regaining her serious expression.

"Kate," Lanie said as she began gathering her equipment, "How long ago did you get here?"

"Just a few seconds ago," Kate replied, "Castle and I were in the neighborhood."

"Doing what?" Lanie asked as she began to smirk, "Something for your anniversary that's coming up?"

"No," Kate said beginning to get red in the face, "We were just… on a peaceful drive."

"Uh huh," Lanie replied skeptically as she then headed towards the corpse, "Go converse with your boy toy. I'll let you know when I have something you can use."

Before Kate could respond a cab stopped by and Sherlock stepped out, which for some odd reason caused for all of Castle's fans to flock over to him. While Kate smirked at that Castle began to frown in jealousy.

"Detective," Sherlock said when he saw Kate and immediately began walking her way ignoring his fans as he usually does, "You didn't happen to have seen John lately?"

"No," Kate replied losing her smirk when she saw the expression in his eyes that betrayed the expression shown on his face; which was calmness, "Why do you ask?"

"John should've returned to the flat by now," Sherlock replied, "He always calls when he's going to be late."

"You're acting like a worried wife," teased Kate which acquired a glare from Sherlock causing her to look away.

"This isn't a good time for one of those pathetic jokes you childish dimwits seem to enjoy," Sherlock said, "Now you will help me find John immediately."

"I'm currently on another case," Kate said sternly, "I advise you to go to missing persons."

"Uh huh," Sherlock said as he began dialing a number on his phone, "Sure. I'll get right on that."

However, to everyone's surprise a phone suddenly began to ring. When Kate looked at Sherlock she saw his face whiten a bit as he looked over to the corpse. He then walked over to it, and the ringing got louder.

"Sherlock," Lanie said as she pulled John Watson's cell out from his pocket, "You know this guy?"

"No," Sherlock said once he saw his face and grabbed the ringing phone before cancelling the call, "I have never seen this man in my entire life."

"I have to go make a call," Sherlock said as he abruptly turned around and returned to the cab. As soon as he was inside it he said, "Take me back to my hotel flat."

"I have a horrible feeling that Sherlock is going to do something stupid," Castle said while he and Kate watched Sherlock's cab leave the area.

"He better have diplomatic immunity," Kate said, "Or he'll get himself arrested."

"Or worse, deported," Castle said.

"Either would be really inconvenient," Kate said frowning, "He's a really big help on the Ripper impersonator case."

"Ooh," Castle said, " _Nikki Heat and the Case of the Ripper Impersonator_. What do you think?"

"It's a bit long," Kate said.

"What about  _Ripping Heat_?" Castle said as he followed Kate back to the body, "Yeah,  _Ripping Heat_. I think that'll be the title for my next book."

"Try not to be too accurate," Kate sighed, "After all you did agree to never show or tell the public of any of our cases."

"True," Castle agreed, "Doesn't mean I can't base my stories off of them. After all, I based Nikki Heat off of you."

**At Night…**

Agatha McAdams had just woken up to the sound of something not normal in the hospital. She looked around, but couldn't find anything which prompted her to get up out of bed seeing as her survival instincts was telling her to do so. She didn't even consider that she could be hallucinating the sounds as she slowly but surely made her way through the hospital as she tried to escape whatever was coming for her. Suddenly, she heard a vicious barking sound but when she looked around she couldn't see anything. That only unnerved her more, so she hurried her pace. However at the end of the hall the double doors opened letting light spew in, and when her eyes got a little used to it she continued her way. Suddenly, a dark figure stepped into the light, but the light was covering his face in shadow oddly enough.

"Hi," said the figure with an Irish voice, "You shouldn't be out of bed miss."

"That's my choice," Agatha said, "Who are you?"

"James Moriarty," the figure said, "and I know all about the world of the Supernatural. Including what you are."

Agatha widened her eyes in shock as she suddenly remembered the footage she had seen of the Hat Detective being considered a criminal thanks to a certain criminal mastermind.

"That's impossible," Agatha said as she stumbled away, "You're supposed to be dead."

"True," Moriarty agreed, "However, I've got a new lease on life and before I get my vengeance on Sherlock I have to ensure that you don't leave this hospital. Alive, that is."

"No," Agatha said as she began to panic. She quickly turned around but as soon as she did she heard the sound of a wolf bark and it was right in front of her. However, just like before she couldn't see anything.

"I'll handle this," Moriarty said as he pulled out a side-arm, "You can go back to Hell now Dante."

When Agatha felt it was safe enough she quickly hurried back down the hallway, but she was unable to as she felt something pierce her back and fly out of her chest. When she looked down there was blood trickling out of a bullet hole, and before she fell down she coughed once allowing blood to fly out of her mouth.

"I know it probably won't make you feel any better Agatha McAdams," Moriarty said as he walked up to her dying body, "but you will never have to worry about pain again. In fact, you will never have to worry about anything ever again."

Moriarty then turned away and walked off. Unknown to him Agatha was scrawling down Moriarty's name on the floor with her own blood. Unfortunately, she died before she could finish scrawling down the name and all that was there was "James" and a long jagged line as her strength left her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it seems like i brought the supernatural aspect into the sherlock chapters, but for now just assume that she was hallucinating due to the drugs still in her system.


	7. The Devil's Vinyl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Constantine, and Zed team up. special guest appearances of John winchester and Bobby singer.

Chapter 6: The Devil's Vinyl

 

**Chicago, Illinois**

A blonde haired woman was walking through an abandoned house with a flashlight in hand. The house was a wreckage, it was covered in clutter. There were flies buzzing all around animal carcuses that were hanging from the ceiling. As she looked around, she jumped after seeing her reflection in a mirror. She then walked toward a wall and knelt as she looked at what looked like a satanic circle painted on it. Once she found a certain part of the wall she smashed through it allowing indistinct whispers to be heard within and pulled a book titled  _Holy Bible_ out which was covered by a bag of some kind then opened the bible by the gap that was between two pages. She found a record inside of the box.

"Oh," the woman whispered to herself, "My god. It's real."

**Some minutes later…**

A blonde man with was sitting in a chair as she walked into his record studio.

"Bernie," the woman said as Bernie stood up to greet her, "Thanks for seeing me."

"No worries, Darling," Bernie said with a smile as he hugged her then asked, "Can I get you something? Shot of tequila perhaps?"

"I'm good," the woman said kindly.

"Are we alone?" the woman asked as she looked around.

"Yeah," Bernie replied as the woman pulled out the record which was now covered in a cloth.

"Wait!" the woman said before he could grab it, "You should put on some gloves!"

"The acetate is old," the woman said causing Bernie to laugh as she pulled out surgical gloves, "The oil from your fingers could damage it."

Once the man had put the gloves on he picked up the record and peered at it before he said, "It's freezing."

He then removed the cloth from the record as he asked, "You been keeping it in the icebox or something?"

"Just run the spectrum analysis, Bernie," the woman said impatiently as Bernie removed the record from the box, "I need to know if it's genuine, and whatever you do, don't actually…"

"Listen to the damn thing," Bernie finished as he turned towards an advanced record player and analyzer, "You made that clear."

While he was placing the vynil in place to the device, the woman's phone began ringing. She pulled it out to check the caller id and saw her daughter's photo. She looked back at Bernie with an nervous look on her face at the prospect of leaving Bernie alone with the acetate.

"Promise me Bernie," the woman asked seriously.

"Hear no evil," Bernie replied when he looked back up from the acetate, "I swear. I'll get you when I'm done. Now sod off, luv."

As the woman left the room she looked back at Bernie one last time. Bernie put the needle on the acetate to begin analysis and the women entered the room next to it which was separated by as glass wall. The man pulled off his gloves and turned away from the device on the table.

"I'll be home as soon as I can, honey," the woman assured as she headed towards a waiting chair.

"I love you mommy," a young girl's voice said through the woman's phone causing her to laugh as she said, "Oh."

Inside of the record room Bernie was just sitting down watching the screen that performed the analysis of the record intently as he fiddled with some sliding controls. He then looked down at the headphones before looking towards the glass at the woman who was still on her phone. She was not sitting anymore and with her back to him. The man then grabbed the headphones that he turned on and heard some of the music to come out of it before he put it on his head and leaned back.

"Crows gonna fly," were the last three words he heard before he gasped some frost out of his mouth and heard screaming. Bernie grabbed at the headphones in surprise from the cold and the increase in volume.

In the other room the woman had now sat down again with gloves on, but this time she was unrolling an old piece of parchment she could look it over and saw some of the words fading away. Back in the record room the man began grunting in pain as he held his hands to the headphones while he stood up. He then began screaming in pain and as his head turned it became evident that the headphones were freezing over. While he screamed lights were flickering and he fell over. When he finally got the headphones off you could see his ears bleeding heavily. He then threw the headphones away from himself causing them to unplug from the machine, but he wasn't paying attention as the music started blaring and he continued screaming in pain. The turntable kept playing the record and garbled sounds could be heard.

"No!" he cried out, "Don't make me do it!"

He then grabbed a screwdriver which lay on top of the record analyzer and shouted as he raised the screwdriver up to his right side ear and stabbed himself. That caused him to to fall against the glass wall as he continued shouting. That also got the attention of the woman who got startled and rushed to see if he was okay. However the still playing turntable with the record was freezing over and she began screaming as well.

**Meanwhile, in Jefferson, Missouri…**

Dean was currently in the bed of a hotel room he had rented the evening prior. The only thing different about Dean's hotel room was that it only had one bed and he wasn't even breathing. There were empty beer bottles laying all over the place which have yet to be thrown out.

**In another realm…**

"Where the hell am I?" Dean asked no one in particular as he looked around the blackness of his surroundings. All he could see was blackness, but he could also make out shapes of what looked to be bodies. He could not tell if he was just seeing things though, as is normally the case in a pitch black location. Unknown to him one of the shapes stood up and looked his way.

"Hello?" Dean called out, "Anyone there?"

Just like before there was no answer, but this time he began to get a prickly sensation. He felt as if he was being watched.

"I know you're out there," Dean called out, "Show yourself, and face me like a man."

"That is so cliche," said a voice behind Dean which sounded exactly like his. Dean suddenly whirled around and raised his eyes when he saw… himself.

"What are you?" Dean asked, "You're not a shifter or Asmodeus, are you?"

"Oh I'm just your friendly neighborhood cosmic entity," Doppelganger-Dean said, "Now why don't you tell me how in creation you're here?"

"Would if I could," Dean replied, "The last thing I remember was… stopping at a gas station to fill up my car."

"All I understood was 'would if I could,'" Doppel-Dean said, "The only things that exist in this void are dead angels, demons, and yours truly. You however are human. If you had died you would've been sent to heaven, hell, or one of the other afterlifes."

"Wait," Dean said, "This is Angel-heaven?"

"I suppose that's a way of looking at it," Doppel-Dean said, "Well if you're going to stay why don't you just go to sleep, because if anything here is awake I'm awake and I hate being awake."

"Sorry buster," Dean said, "I'm not just going to lay down and go to sleep. I'm going to find Cas, wake him up, and then he and I are going to bust out of this joint."

"One being awake is bad enough but two?" Doppel-Dean said getting angry, "I won't stand for it!"

"Too bad bucko," Dean said, "Cause that's what you're going to get."

"Maybe I should just send you back right now," Doppel-Dean said.

"Without Cas?" Dean said, "Nah, I don't think so."

You don't have a choice," Doppel-Dean said as he reached out to grab Dean.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, "Wake up Cas! We need your help! Lucifer's little monster… Jack… needs your help! You wake up, and then you force this entity to send you back to Earth! I'll be waiting!"

"Gah!" Doppel-Dean cringed before he snarled, "I'm going to put your angel back to sleep, and you'll never know you had a chance at bringing him back to life."

"If you think that's what's going to happen then you're in for a surprise," Dean said with a smirk, "You don't know Cas like I do. You may have my face, but you don't have my memories. Cas is as stubborn as it gets. Nothing can out-stubborn him."

Doppel-Dean growled then punched Dean, causing him to fall down and squeeze his eyes shut.

**Back in Dean's hotel room…**

"Man I have one killer hangover," Dean groaned as he opened his eyes. He then closed them again to let the pain reduce before pulling himself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom in order to relieve his stomach of yesterday's food and drinks. He then decided to take a shower in order to rid himself of the vomit that clung inside of his mouth and to clean up after he smelled his armpits and looked at his oily hair.

When he was done he put on a change of clothes and began packing things up. When he picked up his cellphone he saw that he had a voice message to listen to once he was on the road.

"Garth?" Dean asked as he looked at the phone number in the missed calls section, "This oughta be interesting."

Dean then redialed Garth as he began cleaning up the mess he made a night before. It took a few minutes to clean up the mess, but just as he had finished Garth answered the phone.

"Dean!" Garth said in his usual excitement, "What's up man."

"Garth!" Dean said cringing, "Not so loud. I'm having one hell of a hangover right now."

"Oh, sorry man," Garth replied, "Anyhoo I called earlier because I found a job for you."

"Why can't you handle it?" Dean grunted as he began packing up his stuff.

"Two reasons," Garth replied as his tone became a bit more serious, "I'm nowhere close to it, and according to Sam you're the closest hunter."

"Hrmph," Dean said sourly, "What is the other reason."

"Me and my family are kind of laying low right now," Garth said sadly, "The rising darkness is screwing with us. Whenever we get anywhere close to humans the wolf inside begins to get stronger."

"The hell is the rising darkness anyway?" Dean asked as he picked up his stuff and headed towards the hotel room's exit.

"No idea man," Garth replied, "I only know about it cause I heard it from another hunter who heard it from another, and so on, and so forth."

"Yeah," Dean replied as he went down the hallway to the elevator, "Now what was this job?"

"Back to business then," Garth replied, "A British man by the name of Bernie Reed stabbed himself in the ear with a screwdriver in Chicago, Illinois."

"One has to be pretty desperate to commit suicide to use a screwdriver to do so," Dean replied as he passed a couple who were walking with a child trailing them who stared at him with a freaked out expression.

"It's not your average suicide either Dean," Garth replied, "Never mind the force required to do that, but according to the coroner's report he was bleeding from his ears combined with some frostbite around his ears as well."

"I'll check it out," Dean replied, "Stay safe Garth."

"You too, Dean," Garth replied before he paused for a second, "I suggest you call Sam."

"Sam and I are done," Dean said grumpily, "There's no reuniting with each other now."

Before Garth could respond Dean ended the call as he made it to the front office. Before he exited the building the secretary who was a woman in her mid-20s beckoned him over.

"Did you need something?" Dean asked the secretary.

"Yeah," the woman said as she handed him a piece a paper with a phone number on it, "Next time you're in Jefferson City, Missouri look me up."

"Will do," Dean said with a flirtatious smirk, "see ya around sweet cheeks."

"Mmmm," the woman said, "You better, or I'll hire a bounty hunter."

"I really do have to go," Dean said as he headed towards the exit, "We'll definitely see each other again one day."

**Meanwhile, at Chicago, Illinois…**

John Constantine and the Mexican woman from before were currently outside of a hospital in the parking lot. In the background there were sirens, and a woman in dark blue scrubs was walking away from the building while a grey haired man in a suit was heading towards it. As soon as Constantine reached the hood of the truck that he took a ride in he plopped the black worn carpet bag onto the hood.

"What's in the man-purse?" the Mexican woman asked as Constantine opened the bag.

"Bits and bobs," Constantine replied as he searched through it, "Holy water, police scanner, cemetery dirt, duct tape…"

"What's this?" the woman asked as she pulled out a rock and a nail.

"Oh, oh!" Constantine said as he grabbed the objects from her hand, "Don't touch. These… are the nails from the coffin of St. Padua."

"Patron of lost souls," Constantine continued as he picked up another nail, "Watch. The nails follow one another. Tuck one of these in a bloke's pocket, you got yourself a nifty tracking device."

As Constantine moved the nail in his hand in a circle and the other nail on the rock pointed at it without failing in its task. Zed looked at him unimpressed.

"Now, if only I brought something to get through that bloody door," Constantine said to himself as he put the rock and nails back in the bag before glancing at the entrance. The Mexican woman smirked and walked off for a bit before she 'accidentally' bumped into a passersby.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry," the woman said apologetically, "Sorry. Clumsy!"

"It's alright," the man in the scrubs said as he continued his way. Zed, on the other hand, walked back to Constantine and revealed that she had taken the man's hospital ID card.

"Like this?" the woman asked causing Constantine sigh and then to chuckle at her quick thinking.

**A couple minutes later inside the morgue…**

Dean Winchester wearing his 'monkey suit' was currently in the morgue examining the corpse, and he honestly had no idea what he was looking for. He knew about the frostbite, but other than that there was no sign of anything that could've been supernatural in origin. As Dean stood up straight again he heard the sound of footsteps, and since there was a huge window next to the main entrance he couldn't exactly hide next to the door. He hurried around the room searching for anywhere to hide, but just as he found the perfect spot, the door opened.

"Who the bloody hell are you?!" demanded a British voice, "Are you the one responsible for Bernie's death?!"

"I'm Federal Agent Levi," Dean said as he turned around and pulled out his badge, "At this moment I'm investigating the late Bernie Reed's death."

"Let me see that," Constantine said as he snatched the badge from Dean.

"John," the woman said quietly. When Constantine looked at her she leaned forward into his ear and whispered, "He was in my drawings as well. Remember? You saw them the day we met."

"Then that means he's clearly not Federal Agent Zachary Levi," Constantine whispered back as he folded the badge close.

"Can I have that back?" Dean asked impatiently, "And what are you two whispering about?"

"Have your fake ID back," Constantine said tossing it at Dean who caught it, "Now why don't you tell me who you really are."

"I just told you," Dean persisted, "I'm-"

"You may as well as tell the truth," Constantine advised, "Zed here has seen you in her visions, and quite frankly… her visions are always about those connected to the supernatural. I know for a fact that federal agents don't involve themselves in supernatural affairs, and when they do they generally don't survive."

"Visions?" Dean blinked, "That's just… no way."

"I'm not pulling your leg," Constantine said, "I'm being very serious."

"When aren't you?" Zed asked.

"I have my moments," Constantine replied.

"Your mother didn't happen to die in a fire, did she?" Dean asked Zed. Hopefully she's just psychic but he might as well check all the basics to make sure she's a potential threat.

"That's a bit of a specific question," Constantine remarked, "She won't answer it by the way. I've known her a day and then some, but I still don't know a single thing about her."

"What about a man with yellow eyes?" Dean asked ignoring Constantine. At that Zed's face went pale.

"Yellow eyes?" Constantine asked, "The only beings I know of that have yellow eyes are Princes of Hell. Now I really do have to know who you are."

"Fine," Dean said, "I have no time to continue evading this so here it is. My name is Dean Winchester."

"Winchester?" Constantine asked, "Well ain't that a kick in the pants. You and your brother are famous. I may have not been out of the Asylum that long, but the word about you has it said that both of you have been to hell and back."

"Don't remind me," grunted Dean.

"What's it like by the way?" Constantine asked.

"I don't know," Dean said, "It's been under new management for a while now. Now let's just get to the matter at hand. What are you doing here and who are you?"

"I'm John Constantine and I'm here the same as you I expect," Constantine replied as he turned towards Bernie's corpse, "I'm here to find out what happened to Bernie."

"Then shall we do this case together?" Dean asked curious as to Constantine's style.

"I work alone mate," Constantine said before he remembered Zed was in the room, "Zed's the exception."

"I do now as well," Dean said, "You may as well accept my help, because I'm not leaving until this job is done."

"Fine," Constantine grunted, "Just don't get in my bloody way."

"Oh, damn it, Bernie," Constantine said sadly as he took in Bernie's appearance, "Look at the state of you."

"How did you two know each other?" Zed asked curiously.

"Well," Constantine replied as he opened his black carpet bag, "Back in Jurassic times, I fronted a punk band called Mucous Membrane."

Zed looked at him with wide eyes while Dean just shrugged, which caused Constantine to smirk.

"Yeah," Constantine said, "That's right. I wasn't always an upstanding Warlock. Bernie here produced our very first and only record."

"He tried his best," Constantine continued causing Zed to chuckle, "but… to tell you the truth, we were just a bunch of wankers trying to get laid. And here we are. Reunited for one finale comeback tour."

"Courtesy of… this," Constantine said as he pulled a stiff african american hand out of his bag, "Hand of Glory."

"That's real dark magic," Dean said narrowing his eyes.

"Aye it is," Constantine agreed, "Bloody useful though. You take the left hand of a man that's been hanged, pickle it in amniotic fluid for seven years, say the right incantation, and the dead will rise for as long as the candles burn."

"Here," Constantine said as he handed Zed a blood bag, "Empty this on the floor."

Dean looked on stiffly and prepared for the worst.

"Okay," Zed said as she did so in a circle around the morgue bed while Constantine lit the fingertips of the hand on fire with a lighter.

"Hear me, most Unnamable of Devourers… he who guardeth the Golden Gateway…" Constantine chanted while holding the Hand of Glory up, "I seek an audience with one in your embrace." Zed finished the circle and stared intently at the burning hand curious to see what will happen next.

"Come on old sod," Constantine said as he looked down at the body and Zed's and Dean's gaze followed his to stare at the corpse. Constantine frowned when it didn't seem to work, then suddenly Bernie's body lurched up into a sitting position. The corpses in the body bags suddenly began to writhe about. The sounds of undead moaning could be heard throughout the morgue.

"Hold this," Constantine said as he handed the Hand of Glory to Dean when Zed backed away in disgust. Dean hesitated at first, but in the end he took it.

"Bernie, Bernie!" Constantine urged, "It's John. Who did this to you?"

"The voice," Bernie said in an inhuman tone, "My god! T-t-t-the v-v-v-voice."

Dean who was holding the Hand of Glory looked down at it as he heard one of the fingers hiss as the fire went out. Seems like the Hand of Glory has a time limit, Dean just hoped they can get what they need in time.

"I… I don't understand, Bernie," Constantine said in confusion, "I don't understand."

"On the acetate," Bernie said staring out at nothing, "So cold."

"No, no bring the hand closer," Constantine ordered as Bernie began to lie back onto the bed, "come on, Bernie, don't leave me. Give me something else, give me something else, Bernie. Come on."

"Moonrise," Bernie said quietly as the flames on the hand went out causing all the bodies to become still and silent once more including Bernie's.

"Rest in peace mate," Constantine said as he closed Bernie's eyelids.

"Moonrise," Dean muttered to himself, "Where have I heard that?"

**A minute later…**

Dean walked out of the building and back towards his Impala while Constantine and Zed on the other hand went to her truck. While Dean was walking back towards his car he kept racking his brain as to why he recognized the name or title 'Moonrise.' However, he couldn't make heads or tails as to why so as he arrived at his Impala he pulled out a phone and began looking through his contacts till he found Jodie Mills' number.

While he waited for Jodie to answer he got into the driver's side of the car and started it. When Jodie picked up Dean was already on the street towards the hotel room that he had already rented earlier in the day.

"Hey Dean," Jodie said in greeting, "Sorry about Cas."

"Yeah," Dean said as he made a turn.

"So what did you need?" Jodie asked.

"Maybe I'm just calling to say hi," Dean said slightly smirking.

"I know you better than that," Jodie said, "You never call unless you need something, so spill."

"I need you to find out what 'Moonrise' is," Dean said just as he parked in the hotel parking lot.

"Moonrise?" Jodie asked, "Okay, but aren't you with Sam? He's the research expert of the two of you after all."

"We parted ways for good," Dean said as he exited the Impala and made his way to his hotel room, "Now hunting is a solo act for me."

"Well whatever it is I'm sure you two will get back in each other's good graces," Jodie said, "Till then, I'll just tell you what I can. I'll call you back as soon as I have the info. Ttyl."

"Ttyl?" Dean asked in confusion as he sat down on his bed and loosened the tie.

"It's text talk," Jodie explained, "'Ttyl' means 'talk to you later.'"

"Oh," Dean said, "Kind of pointless, but okay. Talk to you soon."

After Dean ended the call and placed his phone onto the bedside table. A minute later he was conked out in his bed. A second later he opened his eyes and saw a familiar shape, and when he blinked a couple times he widened his eyes at the sight.

"Bobby?" Dean said in shock.

"What are you looking at me like that for," Bobby asked as he noticed Dean's expression.

"I thought you were…" Dean trailed off.

"Thought I was what Dean?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe it was all a terrible nightmare," Dean muttered to himself.

"You need to pull yourself together boy," Bobby said, "We still have to send Lucifer back into the cage. Sam and Castiel are waiting for us."

"I'll be right there Bobby," Dean said now back to his normally slightly cheerful self then muttered, "This time I'm going to make sure that we do things right."

**Later…**

Dean had just arrived at the city where Sam was to confront Lucifer, but when he got there Sam and Cas were nowhere to be seen but Bobby was there.

"Bobby?" Dean said in confusion, "Where's Sam and Cas?"

"You know exactly where he is boy," Bobby said, "You need to go to him."

"He's supposed to be here Bobby," Dean said, "We're supposed to send Lucifer back to the cage, remember?"

"Of course I remember ya idget," Bobby said, "I also remembered that we failed the first time and the only time we had success was when Sam fell into the cage taking Micheal with him."

"How do you…" Dean began shocked.

"How do I know about that?" Bobby said, "Use your noggin, will ya. You weren't sent back in time. This is all in your head. You're dreaming, boy."

"You're saying that your the personification of my conscious," Dean said skeptically.

"Course not," Bobby said, "I'm as real as you or Sam. It's just not that easy to speak to ya from heaven. I can't exactly teleport down to ya."

"Well," Dean said, "Then you should know that Sam and I are done."

"You're brothers, Dean," Bobby said, "You can never be done. Now wake your ass up and call him." Bobby knew that Dean could be impulsive and in times like these he needed to be reminded to get his act together.

"I told him to never come back Bobby," Dean said, "There's no way I can open that door again." After everything that happened he just wanted to deal with something that was straightforward, something with an easy answer. With everything that piled up: Jack disappeared, Cas died, his mom's gone, Hades showed up proclaiming himself Dean's father and Sam chose the demigods side. Why couldn't it be like the good old days? There were two sides: good and evil. Why did everything have to be complicated. Why couldn't there be simple things. A simple hunt. A simple solution.

"If you and Sam don't reconnect then I guess you're shit outta luck," Bobby said.

"Bobby," Dean said, "You don't understand."

"Then make me boy!" Bobby yelled, "Make me understand why you and your brother won't close that gap between you two!"

"Sam's trying to help demigods survive Bobby," Dean said, "They're monsters and they deserve to be hunted!"

"The hell is wrong with you?" Bobby asked, "You became besties with a demon and you spared his life when you could've killed him! Now you're thinking like the bloodthirsty hunter your father raised you as?!" Bobby was saw how Dean was trying to cope but he needed to be reminded of how life worked.

"Well I've regained my senses Bobby!" Dean yelled.

"The hell you have!" Bobby yelled back, "you've turned into Gordon! You remember how insane he was!" Gordon drew a line in the sand and wouldn't let himself be swayed. He saw life as he wanted it to be, but nothing in life is ever clear-cut.

"Don't you dare compare me to that douchebag!" Dean hollered, "I'm nothing like him!"

"You really are hopeless if you can't see what you've become," Bobby sighed, "If I can't reach your stupid self then maybe HE can."

"What?" Dean said in confusion. When Bobby flickered away Dean saw a shadow walk towards him, and when the shadow got into the light Dean widened his eyes in realization as he said, "Dad?"

"Hey Dean," John Winchester said, "I've missed you and Sam so much."

"No you didn't," Dean said, "You were in heaven imagining yourself with mom."

"Maybe at first," John admitted, "But later on I became aware of the going's on in the world of the living."

"Is it true that I'm actually the son of the Greek God of the Underworld?" Dean asked. He didn't let his anticipation show.

"Yes," John said. He didn't let any regret show on his face. Dean was his son and it doesn't matter who his biological father was.

"Did you always know?" Dean asked.

"No," John replied, "I found out in Hell while Alistair was torturing me. I had assumed it was a form of mental torture, but he wasn't the only one that told me."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Dean asked, "Do the right thing by killing all the demigods including myself?"

"Course not," John said, "You still hunt, but now you have to be more like Sam instead of like me. I would've hunted them indiscriminately, but you don't have to follow my example."

"I just feel like I always lose Dad," Dean said, "I lost Mom again, Cas, Charlie, you, Bobby, Benny, Kevin, Gabriel, and Jo. Hell, even Meg the demon bitch who had you abducted and Crowley the King of Hell. Kane too."

"I have a feeling that you'll get a big win soon Dean," John said, "Now you go wake up and find Sam."

**Meanwhile, with the blonde woman…**

The woman who found the acetate was now clothed in a black shirt that had it's collar resting it's left side on top of her left arm below her shoulder. The woman pulled out a square object covered in white cloth from her purse. On her hands were black gloves which she rubbed the white cloth with while holding it in her left hand. As she did so she let out a visible puff of breath at a sudden decrease in temperature. She slowly looked around anxiously looking for a place to hide it. The woman looked behind her at the bookshelf full of records. She walked up to to the left side of the shelf and pushed the records on the top shelf to the right side making room for the acetate. After that she slowly but surely put the cloth-covered record into the bookshelf and pushed the records back into place to keep it hidden from view.

"Mom?" a girl's voice asked startling the woman causing her to gasp as she turned around quickly, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," the woman lied innocently, "I… I was just…"

The woman huffed then tilted her head and looked at the girl with a serious expression as she asked, "Why are you up?"

"I had a nightmare," the girl replied looking at her mother with wide frightened eyes.

"Aw," the woman said as she took off her gloves so she could walk over to her and kneel in front of her, "baby."

"Someone was trying to take you away from me," the girl explained.

"I'm not going anywhere," the woman said firmly as she pulled the girl into a hug, "Julilah."

"Mom?" the girl asked again when she saw the bookshelf freezing over.

"Yeah," the woman replied.

"What's that?" the girl continued causing the woman to turn around and when she did her face morphed into a scared expression.

**At the Devonshire Nursing Facility with Constantine…**

"Hi," Constantine said in a southern accent, "We're here to see Marcus Mooney."

"Visiting hours are over," the overweight African American nurse replied from her station at the secretary's desk as she looked at Constantine and Zed. She quickly went back to her work on the computer.

"Hey!" said a familiar gruff voice from behind Constantine and Zed, "What are you two doing here?!"

"Oh bollocks," Constantine muttered under his breath before he turned around and saw Dean walking towards them in a monkey suit.

"Answer the question, crumpet," Dean ordered.

"Hello again Agent what's-it," Constantine said, "I'm here on business, so if you don't mind I'm going to continue it."

"Are these two causing you trouble?" Dean asked the nurse ignoring Constantine.

"They're trying to come in and visit a patient called Marcus Mooney," the nurse replied, "Normally I'd let them go in, but visiting hours are over."

"Tell you what, Tammy," Dean said after a glimpse at her name tag, he pulled out his FBI badge, "I'll get rid of these two jokers if you give me his room number."

"What does the FBI want with an old dying man?" Tammy asked as she raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"That's classified," Dean lied.

"By who?" Tammy asked, "God?"

"Course not," Dean scoffed, "God's probably galavanting around the universe with his needy sister right now. The government classified it, and I can't tell you why cause that too is classified."

"Fine," the nurse relented, "just get them out of my sight. The room's 2022."

"Thank you ma'am," Dean said before grabbing Constantine and Zed by their arms and dragging them out of the building. He then gently pushed Zed from the building, but pushed not so gently on Constantine causing him to fall onto the ground.

"Don't let me catch you two amateurs investigating in federal matters again," Dean said before going back into the building.

"That was a bit rude," Zed frowned as she helped Constantine up to his feet.

"Aye," Constantine replied, "Can't say I haven't done worse though."

"That was a double negative," Zed said raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you go all english teacher on me Zed," Constantine said, "Besides while the plan didn't go entirely well we got what we need. The old geezer's room number. Off to room 2022."

**In room 2022…**

Dean slowly entered the room and saw an old man lying on a hospital bed connected to medical machines.

"Who are you?" the old man asked when Dean got in front of his bed.

"I'm Agent Russell," Dean said as he showed the old man his badge.

"I haven't met many federal agents that have had shadows dogging their souls," the old man said before he coughed.

"Having to do what I do for the sake of good does that to a person," Dean said sincerely.

"Couldn't have said it better mate," a familiar Liverpudlian voice said from the doorway.

"How'd you get back in?" Dean said as he widened his eyes.

"That's the thing about hospitals," Constantine said, "So many entrances and exits. Now I would apologize for this, but I don't want to."

"Apologize for wha-" began Dean before Constantine punched him hard on the face.

"That was for tossing me onto my arse," Constantine said in irritation.

"Hit me again," Dean glared, "and I'll shoot you."

"Boys," Zed said sternly, "We're on the same side. Now stop trying to be the alpha male and get along. We really don't need all the testosterone in the air screwing up the case do we?"

"Fine," Dean said, "The sooner the job is finished, the sooner I can leave and hopefully never see your face again."

"Feeling's mutual yankee," Constantine replied.

"I'm from Kansas not New York," Dean corrected, "New Yorkers are yankees."

"Boys!" Zed nearly shouted, "we have a job to do!"

"Alright, alright," Dean and Constantine said in unison.

"That one has a shadow too," the old man said getting their attention as he looked at Constantine.

"More than one, Marcus," Constantine said calmly, "I'm John Constantine. I need some help. I'm here to ask about the acetate."

"Lord," Marcus began to panic, "Don't tell me you've played it."

"No," Constantine said, "But a friend of mine might've. And now he's dead. You care to shed some light on the matter."

"You ever heard of…" the old man asked, "Willie Cole?"

"A Memphis Bluesman," Dean said, "Burned bright in the '30s, and then just vanished like the invisible man."

"I used to produce him," the old man explained as he flashed back to the memory, "I had an old recording studio."

"I know you like to sing alone," young Marcus said, "So I'll leave you to it."

"All right," the african american man said before getting ready to start his music while young Marcus prepared the record.

"Willie's legend was," old Marcus said, "he sold his soul to the devil. Never put much stock in that."

"Dumbass," Dean muttered under his breath as he knows from firsthand experience how deal's like those end up.

"Shadow's gonna rise…" Willie sang.

"Turns out," the old Marcus continued, "the acetate he was working on… recorded something when he died."

"Bitch dogs gonna howl…" Willie continued.

"The voice of the deceiver," old Marcus said.

"No, no, no, no," Dean said suddenly, "I apologize in advance pal but that wasn't the Devil."

"What?" Marcus said in confusion, "what are you talking about?"

"The Devil was locked up in his cage in Hell," Dean explained, "There was no way he could've been free in the 30s. It's not as if the apocalypse happened back then as my brother and I weren't born by that time. Yellow eyes hadn't enacted his plan yet either."

"What kind of fed are you?" Marcus asked.

"Truth is," Dean said, "I'm not a federal agent. I'm a hunter. I hunt all sorts of monsters. Vampires, werewolves, demons, you name it. Chances are, I've hunted whatever you could name."

"What about an Invanche?" Constantine smirked.

"A what?" Dean asked.

"Looks like I've found something you haven't killed yet," Constantine said before turning back to Marcus, "You can continue your story Marcus."

"Wasn't nothing left except for blood," Old Marcus continued, "When I picked up the acetate, I heard whispers. I… in… my head. Voices… telling me to do horrible things, and… and it was cold to the touch. It was so cold."

"Why didn't you destroy it?" Zed asked kindly.

"Well, don't you think I tried?" Marcus answered, "I… nothing worked, so I buried it, I… hid it. I sealed it up in the wall, and I prayed."

"Any idea how Bernie came across it?" Constantine asked.

"Private investigator," Marcus answered, "come to see me just last week. Knew about the legend. Wanted to buy the acetate."

"The private investigator," Dean asked, "he didn't happen to mention who he worked for, did he?"

"Oh, no," Marcus replied, "But I saw a name on the check: Fell."

"You did very good, Marcus," Zed said kindly.

"I think it's time for me…" Marcus said, "to go to my reward."

"Why do you say that?" Zed asked.

"I see an angel standing there," Marcus said as he pointed to a spot in the room.

Dean raised an eyebrow before he looked where Marcus was pointing and saw an African American man standing behind constantine with legit wings. However, as soon as he blinked the man was gone. Dean opened his mouth to remark on that, but he thought it was a better idea to keep the info a secret cause he didn't want to seem crazy. As that thought was going through his head the medical alarms sounded as Marcus began to gasp.

"You two!" Dean said urgently as he pushed on Constantine and Zed, "Get yourselves out of here. I'll stay and go get the nurses cause I'm allowed to be here. You, on the other hand, will get yourselves arrested. Now, go!"

"You're not a complete wanker after all," Constantine said, "See you at the Fell's wherever they may be."

As soon as both Zed and Constantine had left, Dean yelled out the door, "Nurse!"

As soon as the nearest nurse started to hurry to the room everything went still. Everything except for Dean however. In confusion Dean looked around and he saw the African American man from earlier standing at the foot of Marcus's deathbed.

"Shhh," the man said as he looked at Dean before he reached towards Marcus. Before he could do so Dean grabbed his arm stopping him.

"I don't think so you angel dick," Dean growled, "I'm not going to let another human die by your arrogant asses again."

"He's going to die no matter what Dean," the angel said, "I'm just making it quick."

"It's not your right to choose who lives or who dies," Dean said stubbornly.

"Look at him Dean," the angel said, "do you really think he considers laying in bed 24/7 as living? Add to that, he was suffering."

"At least give him the choice," Dean said, "Don't take it from him."

"I suppose that's fair," the angel said as he instead gave Marcus a few more minutes of breathing left and brought Marcus into the little time-stop too.

"What's going on?" Marcus asked.

"Dean here has requested that I give you a choice," the angel replied.

"What choice?" Marcus asked.

"To live a while longer, or die now," the angel answered.

"I lived a full life," Marcus said, "I'm old and unable to leave this bed. I'm perfectly fine with passing on. At least then I won't have to suffer."

"It can't be that bad," Dean said, "At least you get to see some hot nurses right?"

"Who are you kidding?" Marcus chuckled, "They're either fat, ugly, or old. There are no hot nurses here. I do thank you for giving me the choice, but I had already made up my mind a while ago."

"He made his choice Dean," the angel said before he touched the old man who then went limp as his souls left his body.

"Who are you?" Dean asked the angel.

"You can call me Manny," the angel replied.

"Are you supposed to be Constantine's version of Cas?" Dean asked.

"Castiel was a fallen angel. I'm nothing like him!" Manny said angrily, "He betrayed his brothers by siding with you Winchesters. There are reasons why the rules were made to keep the angels from helping humanity directly."

"Michael and Raphael were trying to bring about the apocalypse!" Dean replied equally as angry, "Do you know how many lives would've been lost if they had succeeded?"

"No," Manny admitted, "But I was fine with playing my part as the soldier. You should've been fine with playing your role as well. Being Michael's true vessel is quite the honor."

"If you hate me that much why are you letting me take part in your little flash-time?" Dean asked.

"It's not me Dean," Manny said, "I believe that your demigod abilities are finally showing themselves."

"You're lying," Dean said, "All you angel douchebags do is lie. Have fun keeping that stick crammed up your ass. I'm leaving."

Before Manny could say a word Dean left in irritation. When Manny let time resume Dean was no longer in the building and to the nurse who saw him it was as if he was a figment of her imagination.

**At the Fell's house…**

Zed and Constantine got out of the car in front of the Fell's house.

"What are you doing?" Zed asked Constantine as he started to walk towards the Fell's ornate metal fence.

"I'm breaking into the mansion," Constantine said as he grabbed onto the fence and started climbing.

"Isn't that illegal," Zed asked as Constantine pulled himself up to sit on the fence.

"Almost everything I do is, luv," Constantine said, "Come on." Constantine extended a hand to Zed to pull her up over the fence. Ignoring his hand she grabbed onto the metal fence pulled herself up and over it.

Once they were near the house they looked in through a window to make sure there was no one inside the room. They both saw a man in a hood playing an electric guitar.

"There he is, that smug tosser," Constantine said to Zed. He grabbed the door handle only to find it unlocked and opened the door. Constantine charged into the room, through a glass window and grabbed onto the hand playing the guitar.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" the man yelled in protest with his hands up.

"Don't shout!" Constantine shouted back as he held onto the man's shirt, "And don't squirm. How did Bernie get the acetate?"

"Acet...?" the man asked confused.

"Bernie was a friend," Constantine said, "Ian. He was a friend. And if he died as a result of a deal that you made, there's gonna be retribution."

Zed stared intently trying to see if the man was lying.

"Look, man," Ian said pushing back in emphasis, "I don't know anything about any deal!"

"A no-talent hack turns overnight sensation," Constantine said sarcastically, "and you're telling me that you didn't take a shortcut."

"Hey, John," Zed said as she touched her nose, "Something's going on. I keep smelling jasmine."

"Now," Constantine continued, "This guy is backing out of a deal, and people are dying, and you need to own up to it."

"He can't," the blonde woman said as she cocked her gun's hammer, everyone in the room turned to look at her, "He didn't make the deal. I did."

"Put the gun down lady," Dean said as he walked into the room now in his casual clothes complete with his favorite leather jacket that his dad gave him. He had his Colt M1911A1 aimed at her.

The woman ignored Dean not knowing if he would shoot her if she put it down.

Trying to pretend that everything was going according to plan, Constantine ignored Dean and instead focused on the women with the gun.

"Jasmine Fell," Constantine said in realization, "Off-key backup singer and loyal spouse. Ain't love grand?"

"Jasmine," Ian said, "do we know these people?" Ian's eyes flickered between the three strangers, one of whom had a gun. He slowly walked towards his wife keeping his eyes on Dean's gun.

"We're not here to hurt you," Zed said calmly giving Dean a look.

"Don't be so sure," Constantine said still angry, "The night's still young, and Bernie's still dead."

"How about we put down the guns at the same time?" Dean asked not taking his eyes off Jasmine.

"This is a nightmare," Jasmine said.

"Just tell me what's going on, please," Ian said nervously. He didn't think it's possible to leave the room without one of the guns going off.

"Yeah, tell him," Constantine sneered as he started to walk towards Jasmine and Ian, "Tell him how you entered into a contract you're now trying to break at the cost of other people's lives, just so you could climb the charts."

"That's not it," Jasmine said as she backed away from Constantine.

"No, of course," Constantine replied sarcastically, "because the money really hurt your lifestyle, didn't it? The mega mansion, the shiny clothes. Did you even bother to check the price tag of those shoes?"

"Ian was dying," Jasmine explained, "He had cancer."

"I didn't see that one coming," Constantine admitted as he turned around and sat down on the couch.

Dean holstered his gun after he saw that Jasmine wouldn't shoot.

"You sacrificed your soul for his life." Zed stated.

"Why don't you show him the contract, luv?" Constantine asked.

Jasmine sighed before she walked off and came back with an old rolled up scroll in her hand, which she handed to her husband as she said, "Do you remember your first day in the hospital? They said you had a month, maybe two. This man came to me in the waiting room that night. He told me his name was Anton."

"Sounds like a soul broker," Constantine said, "They troll hospitals for the dying."

"More accurately a crossroads demon," Dean said.

"I didn't even think it was real," Jasmine admitted, "But I signed it. Then you went into total remission."

"May I?" Constantine said as he held his hand out for the scroll, "Etruscan rune. This Anton... he may have been a skeevy bloke, but he had a toe in the nether realm, all right. Take a look." Constantine unrolled the scroll to show Jasmine the fading ink on the page.

"Anton said when the last words faded," Jasmine said, "the First of the Fallen would return to claim his prize."

"So, why try and break the deal, Jasmine?" Dean inquired, "Besides the obvious desire to live of course."

"It wasn't my idea," Jasmine explained, "Anton got back in touch. He told me he could trade my soul back for the acetate."

"Soul brokers and crossroads demons never break a deal," Constantine said, "They lose their right of parley with the underworld, and more often than not… they die. Something here doesn't add up. So what did this, uh, Anton want you to do?"

"He wanted me to hunt down the acetate," Jasmine explained.

"He knew you were a rock star with money and endless resources," Dean said in annoyance, "I hate those silver tongued bastards."

"You also had the motivation," Zed said as she picked up the framed photo of their little happy family. Ian held their smiling daughter in his arms and Jasmine stood to their left.

"This, uh, Anton…" Constantine asked, "When did he expect to lay his hands on the acetate?"

"I'm supposed to take it to him tonight," Jasmine said, "He texted me an address.

"Let me take care of that for you," Constantine said, "I'm your best shot at ending this nightmare."

"Give us a hug, then," Constantine said holding his arms out and hugged Jasmine.

"Thank you," Jasmine said slightly confused by the strange man.

When she did so he slid a metal object into her pocket which both Zed and Dean noticed, but only Zed understood the reasoning behind the action.

**Later…**

Constantine now stood in front of Papa Midnite with a disgusted expression on his face.

"I should've known that you were behind this, Papa Midnite," Constantine said, "Alright." After he tracked down the soul broker it seemed that he didn't want the acetate for himself.

Papa Midnight laughed from his seat at the black and white TV. "So... Ian Fell. Thank you, Constantine. At least I know where to find the acetate now," he said as he twirled a pen in his hand.

"Papa Midnite. I didn't take you for a fan of religious broadcasting. Unless there's a Voodoo Channel I'm missing from my basic cable package," Constantine asked after glancing at the channel on screen.

"On the contrary," Papa Midnite said, "there's a lot these learned men can teach me."

"Like what?" Constantine asked, "How to trick a desperate woman into using all her resources to obtain a deadly artifact for you? You know, that recording, in your hands, gives you more power than I'm comfortable with, mate."

"Name it and claim it," Papa Midnite said as if that explained everything; it didn't.

"Come again?" Constantine asked in confusion.

"It's the basic building block of televangelism," Papa Midnite explained, "There are promises out there waiting for us, if we only have the courage to name them and claim them."

"That's exactly the kind of backward thinking I'd expect from a cheating, drug-dealing voodoo priest like…" before Constantine could finish his sentence, Papa Midnight's bodyguard came up behind him and knocked him out with one blow.

When Constantine woke up he found himself on a table with his arms and legs tied. He convulses and coughed when he awoke due to the powder Papa Midnight used to wake him up.

"They tell me this place used to flourish," Papa Midnite said, "Busy factories making things, workers scurrying... Now it's a concrete graveyard."

"All this just to get me alone? I'm flattered. But you're gonna have to respect my boundaries. I don't do zip ties without a safe word," Constantine said as he took in his surroundings.

Papa Midnight took out a needle and stuck it in a bottle to fill it up. "Made of copper. More than effective against your mail-order magic. My men are unburdening Ian Fell of his problem as we speak. Thanks to you, Constantine." Papa Midnight tapped the needle to make sure there were no air bubbles

"What do you want with the acetate, Midnite? There's no money it in," Constantine tried to question him.

"It's an insurance policy. A get-out-of-Hell-free card. Don't tell me that's not why you're after it," Papa Midnight said in answer. He grabbed Constantine's head.

"You know, I lied," Constantine tried, "About Ian Fell."

"For you, lying is easy. You've been at it so long, you've forgotten what it's like to work hard for something." Papa Midnight turned Constantine's head and with the last word jammed the needle in his neck.

"Ooh…" Constantine hissed, "Ooh... what is that?"

"Heparin. An anticoagulant," Papa Midnight answered and took out a short knife and cut Constantine's arm as the Constantine hissed at the pain. "You'll have four hours. That's if you stay very still and say your prayers."

"A slow death," Constantine asked in annoyance, "But not too slow. Is that it?"

"If my two associates don't return from Fell's with the acetate, I want to be able to come back and question you more... aggressively." Papa Midnight pressed down on the cut on Constantine's knife wound for emphasis. Constantine screamed at the pain

"Oh... I always took you for a... a voodoo priest with a... a flair for the dramatic. But a cold-blooded killer?" Constantine said in question.

"I do what's needed. But I don't need to darken my soul tonight. Not with the situation firmly in hand. A pharmaceutical dose of vitamin K. This will stop the bleeding... if you can get to it. Consider it a show of professional respect. If you live, you have worked very hard indeed. If you die, it will be alone with your many, many sins." With that Papa Midnight left Constantine lying there alone.

**Back at the Fell's house…**

"It's been hours and no word. Can you get on that red-eye to Chicago? Yeah, man, I think we're gonna need your help. Thanks, Chas." Zed said as she ended her conversation with Chas on the phone. "How's Julilah?" Zed asked as she heard Jasmine come down the stairs.

"She's okay. Finally asleep," Jasamine replied.

All of a sudden two men burst through the doors holding guns. "Back up! Move!" They shouted, I'm gonna make this simple: give us the acetate, or everyone dies."

"What acetate?"Zed asked innocently.

"Don't waste my time," one of the men told Zed and gave her a phone.

"You don't understand. It's very dangerous." Zed tried to reason taking the phone.

The other man shot his gun the air, "Give it to us!"

Jasmine yelled "no, no, no!" trying to protect Ian, "you can have it" at the same time Ian was trying to say "it's cool, it's cool" to try to calm down the situation.

"Jasmine, if you give it up…" Zed tried to stop Jasmine from revealing the location of the acetate but Jasmine didn't listen.

"It's in there," Jasmine revealed, and the belligerent attacker followed her line of sight and grabbed the acetate.

Hidden from sight Dean appeared and knocked out the attacker and unintentionally breaking the acetate. Zed launched herself at the other attacker while he was distracted and was able to knock the gun out of his hand before Dean yelled out "hands up!" and the attacker complied.

As Dean neared he said, "the acetate is broken," getting everyone's attention. While Zed was distracted the attacker took a chance and bolted and Dean couldn't get a good shot in time before his line of sight was blocked by the doors. He'll never catch him now. The guy probably has a car, Dean thought sadly.

**A few hours later...**

Constantine knocked on the Fell's door. After Zed finally found him with the nails he ate the vitamin K and was able to find the soul broker to break the contract.

"What took so long?" Ian asked as he answered the door.

"Sorry for the delay. Took a while to track this one down." Constantine said and Dean dragged Anton by his jacket into the house.

"She's in there," Ian indicated with his hand, "You need to help her. She's almost out of time."

"You sure this is gonna work?" Ian asked as Anton was dragged to the room Jasmine was rested, she lay on the couch on her side.

"In a fashion," Constantine explained, "Hell will lose its claim on your wife's soul, but what she traded it for, your health…

"Ian, no. I won't let you do this." Jasmine said as she started to sit up.

"What? Cancer?" Ian asked as he sat down on the couch beside his wife, "Yeah, sure, 20 years ago I didn't have a shot. But they have better treatments today. And now I got a lot more to fight for."

"All right, rat boy, you're up." Constantine said, "You're the one that brokered this deal. You're the only one who can break it. Time to eat the contract." Constantine rolled up the contract and held it towards Anton for him to eat it.

"I can't," he said nervously, "If I break any deal…" Anton began but was interrupted as he was pulled roughly by Constantine to a chair.

"Sod off! You've done enough to hurt these people." Constantine fed him the contract while Dean held Anton down. Anton screamed but it was muffled by the parchment.

"Chew," Dean commanded the crossroads deman and he did as he was told.

"When you said 'eat the contract,' you weren't kidding," Zed remarked in amusement.

"Where do you think the saying comes from? It's as old as the Aramaic on that rune."

"Swallow," Dean demanded and Anton did as commanded.

"Now then," Constantine said as he turned to look at the others, "Where's the bloody acetate."

"Dean broke it," Zed answered.

"How did you manage that?" Constantine demanded Dean.

"I don't know," Dean said defensively, "It just happened. Maybe it's curse had finally lifted?"

"Maybe," Constantine said in skepticism then thought  _You're definitely a mystery that I'm going to solve eventually._

_We all negotiate deals with forces bigger than us. But who are we truly negotiating with? The divine? Well, it's only natural. Prayer is one big negotiation with a higher power. But in times of true crisis, we'll make a pact with whatever forces it takes. And pay whatever price._


	8. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas returns, Jack the Ripper is caught, Sherlock confronts Jack the Ripper, Moriarty reveals to Sherlock that he's alive.

Chapter 7: Checkmate

 

**2 days after John's kidnapping…**

Sherlock was conflicted. On one hand, he was near solving the cases, on the other hand, he didn't know what to think.

In the past two days he has managed only to find that the serial murders (or as John would probably call it: the Half Blood Murders or perhaps the Demigod Murders due to the unusual mob family with a Greek myth fetish), and John's kidnapping might be connected but that they were not done by the same person. Unfortunately, in the case of the serial murders, there was very little evidence that could lead to the perpetrator as all the leads he tried were dead ends. The man was a ghost, so to speak. Nonetheless, Sherlock was sure that while it might stall the case, he would be able to solve it eventually.

Upon looking at the crime scene of Agatha McAdams he could see that the woman knew her attacker but that it was not a friend.

The message in her own blood read "James" and ended in a jagged line suggesting a possible range of suspects. Of course none match the names of her family or friends as their first name or last did not begin with James or either they were out of town and could not be the killer. This wasn't surprising as it was a serial murder and it was unlikely that the victims knew each other. To the best of Sherlock's knowledge they did not share friends or acquaintances. Even Miss Olympia stated that while they were part of the same family, they did not interact often or at all.

The message ended in a jagged line. There are two categories the next letter could go into: either starting with an angle or not. The first category then would include: A, Y, U, V, W, J, and X. The letter "U" was included in this category because of the way upward curve that was used in writing the aforementioned letter. The second category would include: E, R, T, P, D, F, H, K, L, N, and M. Now taking into account the way that the line was draw, the letter would normally overlap, being done in one stroke instead of taking the writing utensil off the figurative page, but due to the lack of strength in the victim the letters create a "V" with a very small acute angle and dragged as victim lost strength to raise the arm. Factoring this writing style in, the letters that are left are N, M, A (which could mean that the full name is "Jamesan") but could still potentially include the letters R, P, D, F, and H. After assessing the victim's past, all possible variations will have to be tested.

As she knew the killer it was possible he looked like or was someone from the news or famous or a long lost friend. To be honest, Sherlock mind couldn't help suspecting her intentions were to spell out "James Moriarty". This of course was preposterous as there was no way he survived that bullet to the brain. He knew because he was there, he saw it happened. Even if he did survive, he would be missing some of his brain so his faculties would be limited. A severely mentally incapacitated criminal mastermind could not have pulled this off. Nonetheless Sherlock asked his brother to look into it but he was quickly told what he already knew.

Taking this into account he has since come up with a list of names he could find that someone might hear about on the news. Unfortunately none look promising. They either were sane or had good alibis.

John's case, on the other hand, was not going so well. The cameras were in the wrong places so he could only know who was on the scene based on footage from cameras around the area but which did not show any part of the alley in which the kidnapping happened.

The few witnesses that he found, or came forward, only chilled him more. The kidnapper was reported to have an Irish accent different than the victim's. His height and weight put Sherlock on edge as it suggested the phantom James Moriarty. Of course the witness' testimonies can't be compared to video footages as he drove a car to the scene and therefore couldn't be found on camera. It was possible to try to look at old footage, as they clearly knew where they were going and therefore needed to scout the territory before the kidnapping itself. The kidnapping was very cleanly done, very professional, few clues remain that he could work with.

This creates more work for them as he and the police then had to check all cameras near the alley which had to be examined to determine which car was driven by the kidnappers. Based on that, they can then check all cameras that followed the car to its destination. Due to the limited amount of cameras the car could be lost from sight if there are no cameras on that street.

That's not even mentioning the problem of manpower, there were not enough available police personnel to help with the search so there was only so much they had been able to get through.

As if from far away he could hear a phone ring. Sigh. He decided to finish his review of the case file in his mind palace. Now he could most definitely hear a phone ring. He picked it up.

"Sherlock," Sherlock said.

"It's Castle," a male voice replied, "We have a situation on our hands that we need your opinion on."

**Earlier with Jessica Jones…**

Jessica Jones was working on a case when she heard her phone ring. She answered her phone only to hear the guy hang up on her. Strange.

As she was returning home she noticed a shadow following her and decided to just straight up confront the guy. She came up behind him and slammed him into the wall of the nearby alley.

"Why are you following me?" She demanded. As she ripped the hoodie of his head she saw that it was the same guy as before. The one who tried to kill a woman and who is a serial killer. Great.

Upon having his identity revealed he aimed a knife at her throat only for her to stop him by turning him around and twisting his arm behind his back making him drop his knife.

He screamed profanities at her and tried to trip her up but she just slammed her foot on his knee making him drop to one knee.

"So," She began, "what's this about some serial murder?" She asked him.

When she managed to drag him to her apartment building as she had to knock him out after he tried to get away and tried to repeatedly kill her. His body luckily didn't weigh much in her perspective but it was annoying when his limbs or clothing would get struck on something. Yep, he'll end up waking up to a ton of scratches, served him right, as if she doesn't have a case she was actually getting paid to investigate.

She tied him up and fastened him to her bed as it's sturdier than a chair. Really doesn't want him to get away this time, she doesn't have time to play Tom and Jerry with some pathetic lowlife.

She dialed up the number of the NYC police department. "Hi, this is Jessica Jones of  _Alias Investigations_. Is there a reward for capturing the serial killer that's been all over the news," she listened to the other person on the line, "Yeah, I'll hold."

**At the NYC police department later that day...**

"What is so important you needed me at the station when my best friend has been captured?" Sherlock asked. He was annoyed for the NYC police department's inability to do their own job. He had his own cases to deal with, and with the likelihood that John's disappearance and the Olympia family cases are connected, he figured he might as well focus on John's case.

Castle stood up off the bench in the station saying, "Beckett called me, seems she is not a fan of you so she got me to call you to come down to the station." He turned his head looking for the person he wanted to point out to Sherlock, "The dark haired PI over there caught the killer. She even has the murder weapon with her as he tried to kill her with it. Beckett's finishing up getting her statement so I'm going to head out while she can talk to you about whatever paperwork has to be done for your client. Are you paid by the hour or by case, if you don't mind me asking?"

"By the hour," Sherlock said quickly, and made his way over to Jessica Jones. He figured she would have called him first if she caught the killer, but apparently not.

It just doesn't make sense. The killer went up against Jessica Jones before, surely he would have been smart enough to take into account her strength and skill as to not fail this time. After all the bodies that dropped, if Miss Olympia was to be believed the supernatural bodies, it just seemed too careless and easy for all the work that went into this one case. Then again, according to Jessica Jones' prior testimony, the guy was not stable so it was possible that he simply slipped up. He'll have to have a word with Jessica about the arrest later to determine what happened. Partially, Sherlock was a little upset that he wasn't the one to catch him. After all that work and the new investigator to the case just up and caught the guy.

"Did you find John," Sherlock said in way of a greeting.

Jessica and Kate looked up at him.

"Sherlock, can this wait, I'm taking her statement," Kate said.

"Actually," Jessica began saying, "From his behaviour and his style, I don't think he could have pulled off a kidnapping."

Kate made a gesture with her hands at the desk as if to say,  _see_. "We have him in custody, there are already multiple officers guarding him and soon he will be interrogated. If you want news of John Watson then you'll have to wait."

"Of course, bureaucracy," Sherlock sniffed, "I'll wait then." Then he remembered, "Oh and Jessica, I would later like your account of the arrest."

"If you want to know then read my statement, it's all in there," Jessica countered, she looked like she prefered to get out of the station as soon as possible. "I have other cases to handle, which unlike this one, aren't finished."

Sherlock headed out and headed to where he saw a gathering of police officers near an interrogation room. Seemed like this was big news to the station too. The suspect had killed multiple people after all.

Sherlock pushed his way through the crowd and walked up to the police officers guarding the prisoner.

"Can I talk to the prisoner?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not possible at the moment," the officer said, "he's unconscious at the moment. It took a bit of force to get him here. That PI really didn't go easy on him."

"I'll wake him up," Sherlock stated as he made to move past them.

"Not so fast, Sherlock," the officer said, "You may be a celebrity and a hero in jolly ol' London, but here you abide by our rules. We can't hold him if you rough him up in order to wake him up."

"I never said I was going to rough him up," Sherlock said aghast, "Why is it all you Americans expect is violence? I'm just going to splash boiling hot water on his face."

"That's not any better sir," the officer said uncomfortable at how calm and straight-faced Sherlock said that. The officer clearly wasn't used to such dry humour, "Please wait."

"Don't you need to get that?" Sherlock asked when the cop's phone started ringing.

"Oh oh!" the cop said when he saw who was calling, "Uhhh don't move."

The cop then hurried off to answer his phone, and following him were the other cops. Must be an emergency or something, which was fortunate for Sherlock. Smirking, Sherlock entered the interrogation room and locked the door behind him. He then ended the call he sent to get the cops out of his way before he sat down across from the killer. He scrutinized him before he barked out a laugh.

"You may fool the others by what you're doing," Sherlock said, "But you can't fool me. Now look at me."

Slowly the killer raised his head and stared at Sherlock intensely revealing brown eyes that screamed 'insane', but that was all Sherlock could see as his face had a balaclava on it.

"You're not as dumb as the coppers out there," the killer remarked, "not only that, but you're from the same country I am."

"Correct on both counts," Sherlock said, "However, before me there haven't been any recent reports of citizens of the U.K heading to America. There is no person with your biometric information that has a UK passport for that matter. So logically speaking, you can't be from the U.K now can you?" Biometric passports may be controversial but they sure do have their uses in cases like these. Good thing UK passports are all biometric. That was when Sherlock knew he had him. With a snap of a picture he had been able to get Mycroft to verify this guy's information. The problem was he didn't exist.

"In fact you're from America and merely adopted one of our accents," Sherlock said with a smile, "I applaud you in your accuracy, albeit a bit too late 1800s. However, that works perfectly for being a Jack the Ripper impersonator."

"Not impersonating nothing," the killer said bluntly, he tilted his head up as if from pride, "There has only ever been one Jack the Rippah, and I'm him. I very much like the title, fitting dontcha think?"

"You definitely are insane," Sherlock said, "However, we don't have any secure asylums for you. I guess that means you'll never be able to receive the help you need. Now tell me something Imp."

"I'm not an Imp!" the killer yelled.

"It's short for impersonator," Sherlock said slowly.

"I know that!" the killer snarled defensively.

"Whatever," Sherlock said, "Now tell me which one of your friends abducted John Watson. It had to have been a message for me to back off from the case involving you."

"I work alone," the killer said with a smirk, "and I know nothing about this John Watson you're spouting about."

Before anything more could be said, Jessica Jones smashed the door open, the cops came in, and dragged Sherlock out by force.

"You were supposed to wait until I had interrogated the suspect!" Detective Kate Beckett said angrily, "Why did you go do the exact opposite!"

"Even if you hadn't asked me to I would've gone anyway," Sherlock said coldly, "Nothing will keep me from finding out who took John! Not even bureaucracy! I doubted the American freak over there would've known anything about John, so I decided to go the suspect to ask him myself!"

"What did you do to wake him up?!" Kate all but shouted, "Pour boiling hot water on his face?!"

"Come on Katherine," Sherlock snorted, "I'm not a barbarian, besides I wouldn't have had to. The killer was only faking being unconscious."

"If he did have a hand in Watson's abduction," Kate said as she calmed herself down, "What would you have done to him?"

"Guess we'll never have the chance to find out," Sherlock said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to call my client and tell her the good news."

"You do that," Kate said in exhaustion as Sherlock walked off towards the NYPD's exit.

Kate walked towards the interrogation room and signalled the police psychologist to go in the other room on the other side of the one-way mirror.

**With Sherlock…**

Sherlock had just arrived at his hotel flat when he saw that his flat was already open. He peeked in, and saw that a cleaning lady was unconscious, and on his bed was a package. He walked in and knelt down to check on the cleaning lady, and when he did so he heard some footsteps walk up to the door.

"Any news on my..." Athena said as she entered the room, "Oh. It appears you've had a break in."

"Obviously," Sherlock said as he stood up rolling his eyes, "Whoever broke in, knocked out the cleaning lady after she had finished cleaning based on the full trash can. Before leaving he or she left a package on my bed."

"I advise you to-" began Athena before Sherlock interrupted.

"Take it to the police in case it's a bomb," Sherlock said, "after calling 911 of course. However, I'll do that after I give you an update on the killer."

"I hate being interrupted," Athena frowned before she sighed, "just tell me your progress."

"The killer has been apprehended," Sherlock stated, "He truly believes he is Jack the Ripper, and has a convincing accent to go with it. However, that is impossible. After all Jack the Ripper has been dead for centuries and was never caught."

"You can never be sure of that, you are making a unwise assumption, as I've said, I have other theories. I recommend being ready for anything as this case has proven itself to have hidden depths," replied Athena ominously, she really hoped Sherlock's disbelief didn't hinder him in finishing the case, as she believed this was not the last time someone died by this killer's hands.

"Nonetheless, the case is nearing it's close," Sherlock said dismissively, "at some point you will have to show me the smoke and mirrors behind all these supposed 'supernatural' displays." Claiming Jack the Ripper was back from the dead didn't help her case.

"I very much doubt this is the end of this case, Sherlock," Athena warned, "after all that happened, how is it so this Jack the Ripper fellow is caught so easily?"

Sherlock paused remembering his own doubtfilled thoughts, "easily? There are several reasons that could be, it could be just luck, or over-confidence. He could have simply become sloppy, or underestimated Jessica."

"Have you considered Occam's Razor principle?" Athena asked, "Afterall he went up against her before, he should have had a chance to assess her strength beforehand. He should have had the advantage."

"Strange, how your solution still has a lot of assumptions," Sherlock stated dryly. She failed to see that her faith on it's own made too many assumptions about this situation.

"I only assume one thing: that he has something to gain from the police department," Athena said, "Everything else is fact: he had the advantage, he had a plan, he had medical knowledge, he is an experienced killer. In comparison, something is not right if he was taken down in mere minutes."

Sherlock didn't know why he felt he must prove himself to this woman and confront her at every turn. At the very least it provided a challenge which he wasn't unwelcomed to, but at the moment he had other matters that are more important then these verbal sparring sessions.

"I am off to the station, again, it seems. I'll take your theory into consideration." Sherlock said as he headed out of the apartment, after taking a few seconds to pick up the package and call an anonymous tip to the police.

**At the NYPD…**

"He's not talking," Kate said to Sherlock, "The police psychologist is having a go at the moment, maybe he'll have better luck and find me some pressure points."

"If you had left me in there for another five minutes I could have found out something," Sherlock argued.

"As I've already told you. No," Kate said sternly, "you're enough trouble as it is, let us handle this our way. The case is almost closed all that's left is a written confession and if doesn't give us one I'll just hand over the tape from the video camera with his verbal confession."

Sherlock sighed before asking, "What about my package?"

"We have our officers on it, they'll call me with the results once they're done," Kate answered "Excuse me," she said turning to look as a disturbance near the interrogation room room became apparent. "The suspect," she said and looked back at Sherlock.

They both rushed over to where one of the officers was fighting anyone that got near him. He was supposed to be guarding 'Jack the Ripper', this could not be good news.

"Stop! What are you doing?!" Kate asked.

"The psychologist's dead, and the suspect's gone," An officer yelled over the commotion as she came out of the interrogation room. She pulled her gun out and shot the officer but he kept knocking out everyone in his path. Already one lay dead as other were nursing their injuries.

A blinding white light appeared and the next thing they knew was the corrupt cop lying on the floor and a man in a tan trench coat collapsing right onto the floor next to the "corrupt" cop.

Sherlock stared with a pale expression as he tried to come up with a reason as to why he didn't see the man in the trench coat earlier prior to the bright flash of light. He turned away and didn't even notice Castle who walked up. Sherlock then began walking away from the part of the room and bumped into Castle's shoulder.

"Hey!" Castle said affronted to Sherlock, but he didn't get a response.

"That was rude," Castle added with a frown before resuming his way to Detective Kate Beckett.

When he reached Kate they saw a cop and a man unconscious on the floor. Another cop was knelt by the downed officer and when he shook his head at Kate, Castle realized that the cop was dead.

"Well," Castle said, "I guess I'll ask what everyone's thinking."

"Who the hell is that guy?" Castle asked as he gestured to the man in the trench coat.

"I don't know," Kate said, "but we'll find out soon enough… Castle. You should probably go back home and warn your family."

"About what?" Castle asked before he looked over at the interrogation room and then realization dawned on him, "Oh no. I'll get right on it… and Kate, please be careful. Serial killers tend to…"

"I know," Kate said reassuringly, "I'll keep my eyes on a swivel."

Castle was still worried, but he knew Kate. When she says something, she means it. He quickly left the NYPD and hurried home to ensure that his mother and daughter didn't go anywhere since "Jack the Ripper" had escaped.

**With Sherlock…**

Sherlock was still trying to wrap his mind around what he saw, as it was impossible.

"There has to be a logical explanation for this," Sherlock muttered to himself, "He can't have just appeared out of a bright light… it's impossible."

Maybe the man stepped out of the interrogation room as something went wrong with the wiring? The suspect did escape, the one who helped him could have set everything up before hand. Yes that must be it. Surely if he examined the room and the wiring he would find the malfunction. If the interrogation room door was open then the camera could have caught something. His eyes must have simple been distracted by the cop, or too slow to register the other cop in the background. Athena's delusions must be interfering with his ability to properly judge the situation. That was Sherlock's current train of thought as he rushed off.

**With Kate Beckett…**

Kate stood at Jack the Ripper's interrogation room and looked over the area. She had several theories racing through her mind, and some so dramatic that it seemed like it belonged on a TV show.

"Beckett," said Ryan as he walked up wearing a suit and tie like usual, "Here's the prints we got from trenchcoat."

Kate grabbed the paper and looked at it, and above the prints was the guy's face with a name under the picture. The name was James Novak. He was reported missing in Pontiac, Illinois some time in the year 2008. He had been seen multiple times since then, but was never reported to the police. Twice in recorded history he had been seen performing holy miracles. One time as a faith healer called Emmanuel, and before that he had healed a blind man's eyes. Not long after that, he was the lead suspect for the murder of a Michelle Walker's, an incumbent senator's, campaign office. He was also a suspect in the murder of Richard Roman, the owner of SucroCorp. Not only that, but the building itself was a wreak as several employees lay dead on the premises.

"I want that man under arrest immediately," Kate said suddenly, "Nobody can get away with committing a massacre."

Before she could speak some more, one of the officers that was working on Sherlock's package hurried up to her.

"Detective," the officer said, "the package didn't hold a bomb but it held a picture of Sherlock's friend. It also held a tablet on it that seems to be counting down."

"Counting down to what?" Kate asked in confusion.

"I don't know," the officer admitted.

"Sherlock," Kate called over to Sherlock jolting him out of his mind palace, "We have some news for you concerning that package."

Sherlock straightened himself up and breathed deeply for a minute before walking over to her with a calm expression.

"I'm all ears Katherine," Sherlock said as he stopped in front of her.

"Tell him what you told me," Kate said to the officer.

**Later at Sherlock's hotel flat…**

As he went into the room, he noticed that the cleaning lady was no longer there and everything was back to normal in the room. However, his focus was entirely on the package which he held in his hands. He placed it on the table and pulled out the picture. The picture had John Watson unconscious and tied up on a chair with a black background. He put the picture down with a calm emotionless expression and pulled out the tablet, which had thirty seconds left in the countdown. He had just walked over to one of his comfier chairs when the tablet turned on. Letters popped up on the tablet, and it said "Turn on the telly Sherlock. You're going to want to see it."

Sherlock slowly looked up at the telly and turned it on with the remote. When he did so the news popped up and suddenly the image changed. When it did so his face went pale with fear, shock, and rage.

"Hello Sherlock," said the face of James Moriarty, "Did you miss me?"

SHERLOCK WILL RETURN…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story is not yet done. won't be for a while more than likely. The Sherlock centered story is done for now. Sherlock will return in the chapter that John Watson has been rescued. Don't expect to see any more of Jessica Jones. her part in the story has been concluded. the Castle characters will more than likely be removed from the role of "series regular" now that Jack the Ripper has escaped from the NYPD and New York itself. i believe they'll return at least ONE more time, but i'm not entirely sure i'll bring them in again now that their role in the story has been concluded. if i do bring them back then just consider that to be the conclusion of their role of the story.


	9. The Battle for Camp Jupiter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam helps the demigods. Asmodeus makes an appearance. Hellboy makes a guest appearance. Sam receives new information about himself.

Chapter 8: The Battle for Camp Jupiter

 

The plane ride to California was surprisingly uneventful. The plane only shook once as it was going through some turbulence but it didn't last long. Sam tried to take his mind of their potential death via plummeting in a plane by trying to focus on the movie playing on the screen but only managed to barely keep up with the plot. Though he wasn't scared of flying like Dean, he still knew that they were trapped in a plane and had little room to move if they were attacked. If they didn't have targets on their backs he would have asked for anything with alcohol to take off the edge but he needed a cool head if they wanted to make it out of this alive.

Stephen didn't fare much better, he kept tapping his fingers on the seat. When the kid behind Stephen hit his seat he almost tore the kid's head off. Thankfully Sam restrained Stephen before he could cause a scene.

By the time they arrived in the airport they looked like they were ready to bolt. The jetlag only made them feel more cranky after changing time zones. The crowds of people who were going to get their luggage further put them on edge. Sam was panicked because he knew that they were out in the open and in full view of security cameras. Stephen was on edge because he knew that anyone of those people could be a monster in disguise.

As soon as they were out of the airport they called a cab and told the taxi driver the address of a building near the location of the camp. Luckily the driver wasn't much of a talker so they didn't have to say anything. Stephen just kept tapping his fingers and Sam kept watch out the window for anything suspicious.

The taxi driver dropped them off, and Sam payed for the cab. Once they were out of the cab Stephen seemed to relax a little. Sam still kept glancing around for anything out of the ordinary.

"So," Sam began saying, "Where to?"

"According to my instructions," Stephen began saying carefully, then after a pause he pointed with uncertainty, "This way."

They walked the rest of the journey and started walking faster after seeing the soldiers in Roman style outfits at a door.

The soldiers stood ready once seeing the new arrivals.

"Who are you?"

"Stephen Müller, son of Hermes," Stephen replied and pointed to Sam, "And this is Sam Winchester, he made sure I arrived here in time to deliver a message to Camp Jupiter."

"Can we get inside," Sam interrupted, "We're very exposed here."

The two demigods standing guard looked at one another and opened the door for the two arrivals. Once inside the demigods asked for the message.

"Camp Half-Blood was destroyed by hunters. It was a massacre. A handful of demigods were sent to make sure you knew. We figured splitting up would divide the attention of those that remained of Gaia's army. They seemed oddly organized for a defeated army," Stephen said before he paused, the exhaustion from the flight and the walk from the cab was catching up to him. May have been the fact that airplane food was barely enough for the starving demigod. He then asked, "Did any of the other messengers get here?"

The Roman demigods gave each other a meaningful look. The shorter one replied,"No, you are the first new visitors we've seen in weeks."

It dawned on them then, the others were probably dead. If not then they still had a good chunk of land to cover to get here.

"Do you know the way to the camp?"

"No," Stephen replied, "I only got enough information to find you and pass on the message."

"We'll split up then," one guard said, and then turned to her partner, "You take them as far as you can and then come back, I think we'll have company soon." Clearly if the monsters were staking out the tunnel, then the arrival of the two demigods meant the monsters stopped caring who came in. The monsters were ready to attack, and Camp Jupiter had no clue as to what was going on.

**Later…**

"So your saying that not only do we have to deal with Greek and Roman monsters but also Judeo-Christian ones? Great, let's invite the Egyptians while we're at it," Frank muttered. Percy and Annabeth once jokingly let slip something about the Egyptian magicians, personally, Frank didn't even want to know, running Camp Jupiter was hard enough.

"Are the troops ready?" Reyna asked the legionnaire who jogged into the tent.

"Yes, Preator," the legionnaire said, curiously glancing at Sam and Stephen, "The last of them are stepping into formation. The first arrivals are already in defence positions." Once the new arrivals mentioned the, not-so-new, imposing threat the preators sent out messengers: one to get New Rome ready, and another messenger to get the camp woken up and to take defensive positions.

Reyna personally thought that the monsters were cocky for letting them in and for giving them time to prepare. The more appealing option was to think the monsters had a sense of honor yet she wasn't too optimistic on the matter. Also sure, Camp Jupiter, and especially New Rome, had some spells put up by the Hekate (and Hecate) children but that didn't mean a cunning monster couldn't find a way around them. They needed to call an augur. The gods must help, a new threat to their power was not good for them either.

"We will accompany you shortly," Reyna said to the trooper. "Now you must understand the pressure we're under," Reyana began now addressing Sam and Stephen, "We will have to have you guarded until we can confirm who's side your on."

Stephen was ready to protest but Sam put a hand on his shoulder, "Don't." Sam didn't trust Stephen enough to not get them into trouble. Sam noticed before how jumpy Stephen was, probably because of his ADHD, after the long plane ride, he wasn't thinking straight enough to argue. If all else failed, at least he knew how to pick a lock. A jail cell wasn't going to keep them contained for long.

"We are grateful for your protection," Stephen said realizing it wasn't a good idea to anger the only two person on this side of the country who could give him asylum from the monsters.

"It is only temporary," Frank tried to appease them, "We have a camp to keep safe and we can't afford to put it in jeopardy. Once the monsters are pushed back we can sort this out." Frank gave them a friendly smile. While they don't want to shoot the messengers, they can't trust them in a wartime either, he has to think of the camp.

"You don't have to trust me but let me at least help you defend your camp," Sam urged, "I know defensive wards, and I can help with tactics as well. I have permanently killed countless demons, angels, and even gods. If it makes you feel better then have a guard on me at all times, minus the bathroom breaks of course, but I can't just sit idly by while everyone is fighting for survival. It's just not in me to do nothing while there are those that are in need of aid. Sure some of you may survive without my help, but with it even more will live to fight another day.

"No," Reyna said stubbornly, "In this instance I would trust the demigod more than you. He's a demigod; you, on the other hand, have no reason to feel loyal to us. For all we know you're a spy sent to kill us all. If we survive this then I'll be willing to risk trusting you."

"You have supernatural contacts," Sam said as two guards walked up behind him and Stephen, "Use them. After that, you'll know that I'm on your side."

"Allow me to be the judge of that," Reyna said skeptically, "Now get the demigod and…"

"Sam," the tall hunter said, "Sam Winchester."

"Take them to a secure location that can only be opened from the outside," Reyna said while she and the other Preators stood up. She then headed to the frontlines while the two guards 'escorted' Sam and Stephen to some sort of jail.

**Somewhere on the road…**

Unnoticed by the demigods, with the final signal from the sentinel, the hunters prepared to attack. The demigods were weak; one camp down, one to go. Now Camp Jupiter had no way of asking for backup, the opposing army closed in ranks. Into the tunnel they went keeping to the shadows and away from the demigods. Once they get to Camp Jupiter they will separate the demigods from the outside world, no demigod would escape. They will be butchered as they are outnumbered and out of practice from their reprieve after the war with Gaia.

Soon, it became clear that the demigods knew something was off, and the hunters circled the camp getting ready the heavy artillery and the machine guns they had saved for a rainy day.

The first line of hunters to attack was the eastern flank. Knowing that New Rome had the less experienced and more vulnerable demigods, the hunters attacked there first. While the citizens put up a fight, they were used to the city life and lead a peaceful life. They were unused to fighting humans who had lives, and weren't as easy to kill as a mindless monster.

The demigods soon heard of the commotion and sent in several legions to defend the demigods but little too late realized that the monsters were circling the entire camp. The demigod soldiers hearded non-military to an easily defendable part of the camp and circled the group hoping to lesson the risk, but the damage was done. They were at a disadvantage and bodies already littered the forum. The injured were taken by medics or by those on pegasi to a safe place to be treated.

Sam and Stephen in the meantime were stuck in a cell listening to the sounds of battle and cries of pain. While Stephen had his ADHD making him restless as he had faith in the Roman demigods, Sam on the other hand hated just sitting around and doing nothing when he could help. He then decided that enough was enough, he wasn't going to just sit idly by anymore. He examined the cell door and when he saw that there was somehow rust where the door locked into the doorway he smirked. He then stepped back before using full force to kick the door open with his right leg. It reminded Stephen of that kick move from the movie  _The 300_.

"How did you do that?" Stephan asked in a shocked expression.

"This isn't my first time escaping from a cell," Sam said as he peeked around the doorway.

"Well let's go join the fight," Stephen said as he headed to leave the cell.

"No, no, no," Sam said as he stopped him, "You should stay here and let me handle this. Besides your skills have you rely on weapons, don't they."

"Well..." Stephen said reluctantly, "Mostly, but I could just as easily steal a weapon."

"You have been unarmed," Sam said, "You'd only be a liability. Stay here."

**With Reyna…**

Reyna flew overhead on her pegasi. She slashed left and right attempting to injure as many mortals as possible and give the demigods as much time as possible to get the injured in between the flow of invaders. She still didn't understand just what this meant. The invaders seemed like mortals but there was clearly something off about them. She caught a glimpse of black eyes here and there. Definitely not human. She hadn't seen anything like this before. If these were the demons from Hell then why did they work with mortals? She knew she could not stop to think about killing mortals, but it didn't mean it didn't make her pause here and there.

Suddenly she spotted the so called hunter who had arrived with the Greek demigod in order to warn them, and her stubbornness wouldn't let her see that she was wrong to distrust him so she shifted the reins of her pegasus and performed a dive bomb, but suddenly Sam picked up a fallen demigods sword and swiped up just in time to impale a mortal. That made her stop and pull back on the reins of her pegasus and start to rethink her opinion of him. At the moment she needed all the allies she can get. In this instance, her military training cannot compensate adequately for the enemy's greater numbers and superior knowledge of their enemy.

Down on the ground Sam knelt down and laid the man on the ground gently.

"Why would you help monsters like them?" the hunter asked as he coughed blood out of his mouth.

"I've come to learn that hunting isn't all black and white like I was raised to believe," Sam replied, "Sometimes there are good monsters."

"What a load of horse-" began the man before a fit of coughing struck him. When he was done he fell limp and just gazed into the sky with a blank expression. Sam closed his eyelids for him before standing up with the demigod sword in his hands.

"Well, well, well," said a voice from behind Sam, "Never thought I'd see the day where Sam Winchester would kill a human to protect a demigod. Quite the sight to see."

Sam slowly turned around and when he did he saw a man standing there with a teen demigoddess held in a choker hold. To Sam's surprise the man's eyes turned black for a second which pissed him off even further.

"Let the girl go!" Sam ordered as he tightened his grip on the gladius.

"Or what?" the demon snarked, "You're going to kill me? Please, you can't do that while I have this girl as a meat shield."

"I will kill you," Sam said with fury as his eyes suddenly went yellow, "And I will make you wish that you had never heard of the name Sam Winchester before you die!"

"No…" the demon said as his cocky expression left him, "How are you at the same level as a Prince of-"

Suddenly, an arrow struck him in the temple cutting his sentence short and causing the teen to fall to her knees. Sam quickly forgot his rage and as soon as he did that his eyes returned to normal. When he looked toward where the arrow had come from he saw a Roman demigod standing with a bow before dropping it and pulling out two knives and slicing at hunters that got too close.

"So," said a familiar voice from above, "It looks like you're on our side after all."

When Sam looked up he saw Reyna sitting astride a hovering pegasus which was definitely the strangest thing he had ever seen time.

"I'm not done with you yet," said the voice of the demon that Sam thought had died. When Sam and Reyna looked towards him, they saw that the arrow was no longer inside his skull, instead it was in his hand. Before Sam or Reyna could do anything the demon stepped towards the teen girl who was trying to escape on her damaged leg that the demon had damaged earlier and stabbed the arrow threw her back and into her heart.

"No!" Sam and Reyna yelled in unison as they watched the scene go down in slow motion helplessly. Sam suddenly ran at the demon and skewered him with the sword, but that didn't kill him at all. However, Sam didn't care as he then kicked the demon's leg with a downward kick. He then proceeded to punch downward more than once causing the demon to bloody up.

"I told you I would make you wish you had never heard of the name Sam Winchester," Sam snarled as he then grabbed the demon's neck with both hands and then began the slow process of ripping the demon's throat out.

"Stop!" Reyna ordered as she got sickened by the sight of how vicious Sam was being, there was no honor in brutality, "We'll question him about what is going on!"

"You don't know these demons like I do," Sam said without stopping, "They don't talk unless your willing to get down to their level."

"Look!" yelled some random person, "Up in the sky!"

"What is that?" asked another random person.

"Is it a bird?" asked a third.

"Is it a plane?" asked a fourth.

"Whatever it is, it's coming down hard!" yelled a fifth, and the next second later the ground exploded next to Sam.

**A minute earlier…**

In the sky was a dragon of similar size to Smaug and currently it was having a hard time closing its mouth as something was forcing it open. That something was big, red, had a tail, a stone right forearm and hand, wore a black t-shirt under a brown duster, with black pants, had a bit of a japanese hairdo, some hair on his chin, and had some sideburns. Strapped to his belt was the biggest revolver in the whole world. The holster it was in was strapped under his belly.

"It's time to put you down!" the red being yelled, "I've had enough of your crap!"

He then held the top jaw open with his stone hand and pulled out his revolver and aimed towards where the brain would be located.

"Hasta la vista, baby," the being said before firing a shot into the roof of its mouth. The dragon then suddenly stopped flapping it's giant wings and then they both began plummeting to the ocean below.

"Ah craaaaaap!" the being yelled as he fell out of the dragon's mouth and veered to the right towards the state of California.

**Back in the present…**

"What the hell is that?" asked a demigod as he peered through the dust the explosion caused.

Sam slowly stood up and looked around as he tried to shake his head free of the fuzzy images and the ringing noise in his ears. When he could see again he saw a red being slowly standing up before stretching.

"Abe," asked the being when he stuck his left finger to his ear, "When should I expect an evac?"

However, to his disappointment there was no response so as he lowered his arm he added, "Crap."

"It's a demon!" yelled one of the demigods, "Kill it before it kills us!"

"What?" asked the startled being, "Demon?! Where?"

"He means you," Sam explained after he cleared his throat.

The being slowly turned around and looked at Sam before looking at everyone else.

"Wow," the being said, "Looks like you were having one hell of a party."

The being then climbed out of the crater he created before he made to leave. However, Reyna stopped him in his tracks with the point of her sword.

"Stop, monster," Reyna ordered, "As a Praetor of Camp Jupiter I demand that you surrender yourself!"

"Sorry lady," the being said, "I've had a really bad day, and I never surrender. Especially, to children."

"Your day is about to get worse," Reyna said crossly, "Legionnaires! Take aim!"

"Reyna!" Sam said sharply, "You don't have time to be making any more enemies! You already have a battle to win against the hunters and the Judeo-Christian demons!"

"Wait," the being said, "Judeo-Christian demons and hunters working together? That doesn't sound very nice at all. Tell you what, I'll help you with the demons and you'll get me transport to wherever I fancy. Deal?"

"I would take it Reyna," Sam said.

"Deal," Reyna said after a few minutes of mulling things about.

"Hey human," the being said, "What's your name?"

"Sam," Sam replied, "Sam Winchester."

"I've heard of you," the being replied, "You both started and ended the Judeo-Christian apocalypse. The name's Hellboy."

Hellboy then pulled out his revolver and switched out the ammo to holy water filled bullets with demon's traps etched on them. Sam and Hellboy then began to advance on the Hunters and the Judeo-Christian demons. The only ones that backed away were the demons as they got one look at Hellboy. They obviously knew all about Hellboy, and what he could do, and what he had done.

**In a hotel conference room in Ithaca, New York...**

Once the gods of the various underworlds finally arrived, Athena called the meeting to order.

"As you know I called this meeting, which is unusual but I thought given the circumstances that it was necessary, therefore I will act as the neutral party." Athena began from her seat at the head of the table. They really should get a round table next time, Athena thought, less of a chance of a god getting angry that they aren't the one at the head of the table.

"Why should you be the neutral party?" Hel asked interrupting Athena's speech, then continued saying, "Hades already speaks for the Greek gods. Why should there be another representative, surely Hades can speak on your behalf?"

"As I said, I am the one seeking answers, but due to the representation, Thanatos will actually be representing the Greek underworld." Athena said diplomatically. She hated these talks. As a god she didn't like to be talked down to, but given that this had the potential to start a war, she can compromise just this once. I may have helped that her domain wasn't represented. She wouldn't have lasted two minutes alone in a room with Thoth or Mimir.

Hel noded, not happy but placated in knowing that the Greek god of the underworld sent an underling to represent him.

"What is it that you want to know, daughter of Zeus?" Osiris asked, as represented in the body of Julius Kane. The rest of the group was always on edge around the Egyptian not knowing who will be hosting Osiris next.

"There is a mortal wreaking havoc in New York City, his MO is reminiscent of the serial killer commonly known as Jack the Ripper. For this reason, I need to know who housed this mortal, and would it possible that he could have escaped?"

"I don't see why we all have to be here," Yama asked. "Jack the Ripper lived in Europe at a time where Judeo-Christian sects were popular, you're just wasting our time calling everyone here."

"It is becoming apparent that Jack the Ripper, as he calls himself, is targeting demigods." With a wave of her hand a brief case appeared and from it flew copies of the same files to each of the gods. The gods looked at the pages before them.

"Wait," Osiris said, "This is a magician, I have recently made her acquaintance in my halls."

Athena looked taken aback, she was under the impression that the Greek demigods were the targets, she was so worried about her world that she didn't consider the rest. "I was not aware of this. The dead so far were mostly Greek demigods. I have a man on the case and he will inform me of any other deaths and progress on finding the culprit." Before she could say more, Osiris interrupted her.

"If you thought it was only Greek demigods that were targeted, why come to us?" Osiris asked Athena.

"You are well aware of the crisis that arose in the Greek and Roman world some time ago. We have suffered many losses but are still high strung. Should any conflict arise, we will be ready to resolve it, whatever it takes. If one of you failed to do your job and cost the lives of our children, it may be enough to start a war with my father." Athena's tone had become less diplomatic as she continued. She only had so much patience for the other gods. While they have an unspoken rule of non interference, it had always been a fragile peace. It is inevitable that they should clash eventually. The best they could hope for is that it is delayed as long as possible. They had a glimpse of this when the Greek and Roman camps fought. She was not eager to repeat that headache but they were gods afterall and their nature would not permit them to kneel to another god of the same domain.

The other gods didn't look at all pleased at the accusations and some made a noise in protest. They each had their jobs, and they would prefer that Athena stopped sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

"Well it's not my problem," Pluto said. "I've never had the displeasure of meeting Jack the Ripper."

"Nor I," Hel stated.

The others similarly chorused.

Athena leaned on the table with her hands, but in realizing what she was doing she leaned back. She was supposed to be neutral after all, just one day and she never has to see them again, she thought to herself. "If none of you have seen him then where is he?" She then looked around at the gods sitting at the table. "Who's missing?"

"The Judeo-Christian Lord of their underworld," said Osiris aka Julius, "However, Lucifer and Crowley have gone missing, and the demonic factions are reported to be at odds with each other on who gets to replace them. At least that was the report from a while ago."

Athena sighed. This was not good news, if there was infighting then the underworlds are unstable in the long-run. If the demons start to think they can do whatever they want, or take on whoever they want, then they have a serious problem ahead of them.  _At least that's not my domain_ , Athena thought.

Just as another one of the gods was about to start talking, the doors of the conference room swung open and in the doorway stood a demon, all in white. A bright light shown behind him outlining him.

_Well isn't this just cliche_ , Athena thought, mentally rolling her eyes. This guy's almost as much of a drama queen as her dad, all that's missing was the thunder.

"Well now," the demon said as he fiddled with his tie, "All the Lords of the Underworld and Athena brought together. Did my invitation get lost in the mail?"

"Who are you," Hel demanded, her bad side turned towards the intruder.

"I am Asmodeus, the sole surviving Prince of Hell, my dear Hel," the demon said as his eyes flashed yellow, "That means I am the heir to the throne of Hell… I think I should rename my domain. It'll get confusing in this conference of ours, dontcha think?"

"We were not made aware of this," Athena said, "but then again, neither we aware of that Hell wanted to start a war with the other realms." If he can't play nice with the room full of people, who in other circumstances would be his greatest allies, he shouldn't play at all. The odds were not in his favor should he start a war.

"Not trying to start a war you infuriating know-it-all," Asmodeus said in annoyance as he walked forward toward an empty seat at the table, "All I am trying to do is… well I'm not going to tell you. In fact I have no idea what you meant by Hell trying to start a war, so please enlighten me."

"You are the only realm not represented," Hell said narrowing her eyes as she explained, "This means you are the only possible realm that could have housed Jack the Ripper. With the upheaval you faced, one possibility is that you could have easily used him as a tool to win the throne by taking out hunters and demons."

"I don't have to use a mortal to win a throne," Asmodeus said rolling his eyes, "Demons fear and respect Princes of Hell, and so it was easy to become the new King. How long ago did this so called Jack the Ripper start having his fun?"

"You may not need a mortal, but he must have been let out, so there must be a reason. Answer my question first: did Hell house Jack the Ripper?" Athena demanded.

"Wouldn't know," Asmodeus said, "I was never privy to the details of the goings on before I returned to hell. Consider me the white sheep of the family, and by that I mean I was exiled from Hell by Lucifer himself."

"I don't care about then, I care about now. You are in charge, so ask a demon to look at your ledger. It's a simple request," Athena was annoyed by the demon's flippant attitude. They were in a room full of gods who's nature itself is to be the master of their domain. If he keeps poking them, he was sure to provoke them for his blatant disrespect. He was walking a tightrope and he didn't even seem to know it.  _Guess he's not one for diplomacy_ , Athena thought.

"Would be a waste of time," Asmodeus said dismissively, "What's done is done anyway. May as well focus on the future instead of the past. That was the only way I could rationalise returning to Lucy's kingdom after all."

"Jack the Ripper is still out there in the mortal world. If he is your responsibility, then you must have him returned to your realm. There is no negotiating this. He killed demigods and a magician from what we know so far. If you don't want a war on your hands then do your damn job," Pluto nearly spat. If a child of his were to die by Jack the Ripper's hand then Asmodeus will have to face his wrath.

"Take that bone out of your rectum, pooch," Asmodeus snarked, "Don't you worry. I'll put my feelers out, but I doubt it'll do any good. I have an idea. Why don't you lot go to those Winchesters for help? They may be more willing to help than I, because they care about mortal lives. Let's face it, demigods are mortals. As a demon, I couldn't care less."

"You will care once we start killing your demons for everyone of our children your ward kills," Julius said, for a second Osiris was taken aback as his host rebelled at the thought that he couldn't do anything to stop a killer from endangering his children.

"Once again," Asmodeus said slowly, "NOT my ward. If Jack the farter had ever been in Hell he would've been in the equivalent to the maximum security prisons of the world. In other words, he would've been completely forgotten about. Lucifer was the only one any of us ever remembered for obvious reasons. Also, you didn't answer my question. Why don't YOU go to the Winchesters?"

"I have my own ways of looking into this matter. Even so, the Winchesters are occupied last I heard," Athena said.

"Then why not let loose some info to your little problem," Asmodeus suggested, "Suggest to him that the Winchesters are the most dangerous and challenging demigods he could face? Of course, I doubt they're demigods…" Athena stiffened and Asmodeus pretended not to notice as he continued saying, "Though it would explain why Sam was able to survive his Hell memories and Dean was able to survive the Enochian language he heard right after being brought back to life the first time."

"Greek demigod business has nothing to do with you," Athena snapped, she didn't trust him one bit, there was no way she was revealing anything about the Winchester to Asmodeus. "How do you suggest we get Jack's attention? Who could he be in contact with that we could use?"

"For a Wisdom Goddess you just accidentally admitted one of the Winchesters was your kid. Kind of a dumb move on your part," Asmodeus snorted before he became serious again, "Just let slip to any of the demigods around the world. After all, nothing stays a secret for long. News spreads quickly… except for my return apparently."

"Our policy is non interference," Pluto said, "Any interference amongst present company usually escalates beyond resolve."

"Loopholes you idiot," Asmodeus sneered, "There's always a loophole in every policy. Just send some of your monsters to let the info slip? I don't care what you do as long as you get it done."

"Just know that if we find out that you have been involved in Jack's escape or his present actions then you will face the wrath of the entire Underworld Council," Osiris warned.

"Sure I will, dear," Asmodeus snarked as he stood up, "I have some business to attend to in Asmoland… I like that. From now on, Hell is Asmoland. Hel, You should know that Daddy dearest is actually up and at'em. Don't ask how I know everything I know that I shouldn't know, because I won't tell you. Oh, you should probably go see how Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-blood are faring by the way Athena. However, since you gods love isolating yourselves from mortals i know you won't."

Hel raised an eyebrow, that was interesting, didn't mean she trusted him but Loki showing up was an interesting development. He was sure to show up to ask her for her help by taking her dead to man his ship.

Athena wanted to rip Asmodeus head off for his insolence, a mere Prince of Hell disrespecting gods and goddesses. She was anxious to find out what trouble the camps were up to. She was partly bluffing when she said the camps were ready for another battle, they were barely left standing. One is in ruins, which it seems the gods of the dead were not aware of. The other was running high with tension from the Greek and Roman demigods trying and sometimes failing to cooperate in the face of cultural differences. The Greeks were not used to the confining rules of the Romans. The Romans were unused to the light heartedness of the Greeks to the point of arguing endlessly about rules and regulations which the Greeks did not care for. In the extreme case, it was actually sad when she saw one of her daughters talk down a legionnaire when he did not understand that the concept of fun in camp even in the face of all the horrors of the Greek and Roman worlds.

"So," Osiris said as Asmodeus left, "Now we must come to a decision. What shall we do about the Ripper? How shall we deal with him or her?"

"I'll talk to the Winchesters and see if I can get them to take care of the problem," Athena stated.

"Is it true that one of them is your child Athena?" Pluto asked with narrowed eyes, "Or was that demon just trying to make us distrust each other? Which would not be hard by the way."

"Yes, but that it is none of your concern so I suggest you stay out of family business and I'll stay out of yours," Athena said and gave him a sharp look.

"You, Greeks," Pluto sneered as he stood up, "You think you're... How do the humans say it? Ah yes. You Greeks think you're 'the shit,' but you're not. Don't presume to command me again and I'll forget this slight against me." He had not forgotten the inconvenience of the war with Gaia, and while the Greeks helped to end the war, relations have all been lukewarm. A Millenia old mentality doesn't change so quickly as to let the past be forgotten. The other gods were annoyed with the petty squabbling amongst the Greeks and Romans but relieved in that it at the very least kept those two worlds distracted from picking fights with others. Osiris, particularly, didn't want the Greeks picking fights and getting gods like Serapis to take advantage of it.

"May I remind you that we have an accord and you have nothing to fear from me. You may not trust me, but you have no reason to need to. I do not care for your business dealings ,but in this case we seem to have a mutual enemy and we should work towards resolving this whereupon we can go our separate ways." She turned to look at every one of the gods in turn, "I will keep you all informed as the case develops. Should you have any questions, you know where and how to contact me. I will negotiate with the Winchesters, and if anyone has any suggestions or any news about this case we can reconvene to discuss it later." Athena stood up to leave.

**Not far from Camp Jupiter…**

A man stood with binoculars enchanted to see through cloaking enchantments and looked at the Hunters and possessed Hunters were running away from the camp. He widened his eyes as he saw a tall red being with a stone forearm and hand wielding a large revolver.

"Bloody hell," said the man with a British accent as he zoomed the binoculars on the red being, "What kind of creature is that?!"

"Ketch," said a voice from behind him. When the man turned around as he lowered the binoculars and saw one of Asmodeus' assistants staring at him.

"Asmodeus demands a progress report," the demon said.

"Yes yes," Ketch sighed, "The attack went as scheduled, and it was almost successful if not for Sam Winchester and a new ally of theirs."

"A new ally?" the demon asked curiously.

"Yes," Ketch confirmed, "It's a huge red beast with a stone forearm and hand. He wields the biggest revolver I've ever seen."

The demon gulped as he wrote down everything Ketch said before vanishing to deliver the report to Asmodeus.

**At Camp Jupiter…**

After the arrival of Hellboy the tides seemed to have turned and the demons began to retreat. The demons weren't getting any orders so they assumed they should continue to attack but the smarter ones saw that it was a losing battle. Once the element of surprise was lost, the demons began to understand what it meant to go up against demigods. The Greek demigods who lived in New Rome especially were more used to taking full advantage of their powers and the battle was truly a mess. Roots wrapped around demons entrapping them. Fire burns at them. Others were sent flying by invisible forces.

"How do you kill these things?" Reyna asked Sam who threw a fallen demigod's knife at a demon's leg causing it to trip.

"You can't," Sam explained, "Unless you have an angel blade, the colt, a demon killing knife, or the first blade. The first blade is useless now though."

"That only gives me more questions," Reyna said dumbfounded as she stared at Sam.

"I'll explain later," Sam promised. He then turned his attention to Hellboy who had run out of bullets for his giant revolver and stuck with using his stone fist to knock the demons around. Eventually, the demons decided "fuck this" and smoked out of the possessed hunters without caring if their covers were blown.

"W-w-w-w-what was that?!" Reyna stammered in shock as she saw the black smoke.

"That is a demon's true form," Sam said as he glared at them.

"So the whole time we've been attacking normal possessed mortals?" Reyna asked.

"Yes," Sam replied, "Though lately my brother and I have encountered more and more demons that have been using corpses as meat suits. Lifts a lot off of our minds that way when we kill them."

Once the last of the mortals had collapsed, Reyna called out for them to be collected, tied up and put into cells. All of the non-possessed hunters had managed to escape though. A Senate council meeting was to be called in two hours after everyone cleaned up their wounds and took care of their injuries.

**Five minutes later, before the Senate Council meeting…**

Sam was anxiously waiting outside the building where the Senate was to meet.

"Sam, I we have to talk."

Sam turned around and saw a woman was standing near him.

"Who the heck are you?" Sam asked in surprise not expecting an adult to be standing there, "and where did you come from? Wait… you're not an angel or a demon are you? They're the only ones I know that can teleport…"

"No, Sam. My name is Athena and I need your help," Athena said, "There is… a very dangerous person on the loose. I need him hunted down, and I was hoping you were the person to do it."

"Why don't you use that Xena lady?" Sam asked, "She said she was your gods' agent in the mortal world or something like that?"

"Xena is currently…" Athena began saying slowly, "Preoccupied at the moment. I think it might interest you as you are a hunter who is used to dealing with the Judeo-Christian demons. What do you say?"

"Okay," Sam replied, "I'll listen to what you have to say, but don't expect me to agree to do your job for you. The last time me and my brother met some Gods… they tried to use us as bargaining chips, and before that we were nearly eaten by two pretending to be the Krampus."

"Fair enough. I have reason to believe that the man commonly known as Jack the Ripper is on the loose in New York City, or at least at the moment. He has killed many demigods and for that I need him stopped."

"You're joking right?" Sam said skeptically, "Jack the Ripper died a LONG time ago. Last I checked, humans don't come back from the dead unless they bear the name Winchester."

"That is why I believe that he was let out by Asmodeus or someone high up in the Judeo-Christian Hell, a place you are quite familiar with."

"Wait," Sam said getting serious, "Asmodeus? Please tell me I heard you wrong."

"Yes, Asmodeus, you know of him?" Athena asked, curious of his involvement and leverage over Asmodeus couldn't hurt should Sam have any.

"He kidnapped Jack," Sam said angrily, "My brother and I fought off his demons as hard as we could, but it was of no use. By the time the last demon was dead, he and Jack were gone."

"Jack?" Athena asked in confusion.

"Lucifer's son," Sam explained, "Asmodeus is most assuredly the one who resurrected Jack the Ripper. Crowley killed himself to close a rift that connected a parallel universe to ours, and Lucifer is trapped, alongside my mother, in said universe."

_Well that answers the question of what happened to Crowley_ , Athena thought, she had hoped to use him to replace Asmodeus when all was said and done. "I can try to see if I can find this Jack and rescue him. I can make no promises but I'm sure if we worked together then we could figure someway of accomplishing our goal. My condolences, your mother must have been a wonderful woman to raise such a man as yourself."

"Would you mind sending Hellboy where he needs to be?" Sam asked suddenly, "He did help defend Camp Jupiter in return for getting home to wherever he was prior to now."

"I'm sure I can arrange for something, a pegasus or simple teleportation…" Athena replied, she just hoped Sam would agree to take care of Jack the Ripper.

"I will help you deal with the Ripper," Sam sighed, "but I think Dean would be better equipped to deal with him. If Dean can impress the Father of Murder then a serial killer should be a piece of pie for him."

"By any chance, would you happen to know where Dean is?" Athena asked.

"No," Sam said bluntly, "We went our separate ways. He told me to never return should I help Stephen, and since I did, I'll do as he 'requested' and stay away from him. Try asking Sheriff Jodie Mills. She might know where he is."

"You've been a great help, thank you," Athena said, "And I am sure that you will resolve your conflict with our brother, you are family after all and have endured more than most people have had to. If you managed to stick together that long then I'm sure this one argument won't last long."

"Right," Sam snorted, "As long as he denies what he is and tries to prove that he isn't a demigod, that'll never happen. He hates anything that isn't a normal human, and will kill any that crosses his path."

"Yet he didn't abandon you," Athena countered, "I will have a talk with him, you have endured much and you will need each other if you are to get through these next few battles as I am sure this is not the last battle to be fought on these grounds." Athena looked over at the war torn earth of Camp Jupiter. It was supposed to be a refuge but it hadn't been able to hide from the monsters.

"Why are you acting like you care what happens to us?" Sam asked narrowing his eyes in suspicion, "It's not as if you're family, and you're immortal. We must be gnats to you…"

"Counter to what you think, we are family." Athena began saying slowly, "And you are my son. I only hope the best for you. It is not every day that I have a child with your past and the legends that you leave behind." It really was wonder the things that the Winchesters had been able to accomplish.

"Now I understand why Dean was so pissed," Sam said as he began getting angry, "Do you know what I have been through since I was an infant?! I have demon blood coursing through my veins! Do you know how much I consider slitting my own wrists just to get rid of that poison?! Every. Damn. Day! My life has been literal HELL! I lost so many, and I've done so much bad! Hell, I fucked a demon for christ's sake! If I had Dean's ability to dissociate I would kill you out of rage!"

Athena was partially hoping he would be reasonable about the situation but in retrospect it was huge news. "I am sorry for not being there for you, but there are rules and restrictions for a very good reason, and I could not go to you without endangering you further. Monsters can smell demigods; the less you knew, the better off you were. With your dad hating demons and such I didn't know if it was a good idea or if it would make you hate yourself for being apart of something that your father hunted."

"Fuck the rules!" Sam yelled with his eyes glowing yellow, "You are just spouting excuses! Your kind are just as dick-ish as the angels!"

"If there were not rules then this world would have fallen apart long ago," Athena replied calmly trying to understand what she saw, "Do you know what happened long ago that caused such havoc? Wars and endless infighting, once parents start backing their favorite child, gods got involved in wars which led to too much destruction, you may know it as the Trojan War."

"Then you do your best to be there for all of them," Sam snarled, "You can't prevent wars no matter what. Wars will happen anyway. It's called free will, aka the human condition!"

"Yes, but it is the scale that differed, the gods killed many more than would have died otherwise. It wouldn't even had started if Aphrodite stopped messing around." Athena sighed, "I will not make more excuses for my actions but as gods, in the past, we thought it best to not favor our children because with such short lives it becomes endlessly more complicated when the gods are involved. Some might even try to ransom you, which you should be ready for. Asmodeus knows that either you or your brother are my son, I would not put it past him to try to ransom you to try to make the Greek gods back down."

"Oh that's just wonderful," Sam said sarcastically still with yellow eyes, "Now I have another thing to worry about than the usual shit! You don't have to worry MOM I'll just rip his head off and then use it as a soccer ball."

"While I appreciate that mental image," Athena began saying, she really did not like Asmodeus, "I worry what Asmodeus is up to, I don't buy his innocent act for a second. I think that once you talk to Reyna about putting some wards up around camp, you should be safe from demons in Camp Jupiter."

"It's all about the souls," Sam suddenly said with his voice changing, "All us demons care about is gaining more power, and demigod souls are the most powerful."

"Then figure it out!" Sam nearly shouted with his voice back to normal, "I had already offered to help with wards earlier, but she was too paranoid to accept help."

"I think you mistake me for one for the Judeo-Christian entities, that is not how the Greek gods work. I have all the power I need, I am neither as insecure or as power hungry as you think me to be. You should recognize the complicated situation Reyna is in as her camp was just recently faced a war and now this," She paused confused at his abrupt change in voice, and then asked, "Are you alright?" Sam was acting odd and she was not sure how to react.

"Shut up you pagan whore," Sam said with a strange voice again, "I don't want to listen to you spouting shit from that fat mouth of yours."

"Physically yes," normal Sam replied calmly, "Emotionally… I'm pissed, slightly shocked, and a little confused I guess."

So this must have been what is was like for others when Athena was having her split personality problem, Athena mused. "By any chance have you been cursed recently, or encountered strange creatures, or ingested demon blood?" She wasn't entirely sure about the last one, as that world was none of her business she only heard in passing of its ill effects.

"You mean besides that snake lady that turned out to be something other than a shapeshifter?" Sam asked, "No. Also I will NEVER ingest demon blood again. That crap messes with my head. I haven't been cursed either, unless you mean my general normal life."

"Shut. Up," Sam said sternly back with the abnormal voice.

"You don't say," Athena said in uncertainty but she was starting to see the pattern, "I think you are referring to the scythian dracaenae, they identifiable by their two tails. As you were traveling with a demigod, it was inevitable that you should encounter some monsters." After saying that Athena realized she just revealed that she had been keeping track of him.

"That would be it," confirmed Sam, "It was chasing… uh… um… what was his name? Stewie? Stephanie? No, that's not it… his name started with an S."

"If you keep talking," evil Sam snarled, "I will carve your heart out and then eat it while you watch, bitch. After that… I will chain you up and torture you for an eternity."

His speech startled Athena and she best thought it was time for her to leave, "I must be going. I wish you well, and I hope you do not give up on your brother."

"He's the one who's… who's… gah!" Sam said before he collapsed on the ground as his head began burning, "My head feels like it's on fire! What the hell is happening to me?!"

"I think you ingested demon blood," Athena answered quickly and called for a medic. She needed to contact Apollo but since he's not going to appear on earth, she needed to go to him.

"I told you I didn't!" Sam snapped out of pain before evil Sam took over again, "Of course he didn't. You didn't think that a demigod ingesting demon blood as an infant wouldn't give life to another entity did you? If so you must be a really retarded bitch. I have wormed my way into his soul, and now I'm tearing it into pieces! You can't stop me! I will destroy all, unless everything bends to my rule! Hahahahaha HAHAHAHAHA!"

Athena saw that there was no easy way to stop this, she placed her hand on his head to knock him out until a medic could look at him. At the moment he should not be trusted around others.

**With Reyna at the Senate…**

"It has come to my attention that Camp Half-Blood had been destroyed," Reyna began saying, "And therefore the rest of the Greek demigods are scattered. Should the demons and hunters return we will not have any backup. Sam, one of the new arrivals, said that he knows the enemy and is prepared to help us. I will make sure we can use this to our advantage but as Sam is a hunter and was placed in a cell with Stephen we need the Senate's consent to do so as not all would be willing to trust him."

"He did help us in the attack right?" asked one member, "I think I saw him… unless I was just imagining things. That would explain the giant red demon."

"Yes," Frank jumped in, "He fought on our side and he is willing to brief us on this new enemy. I vote that we allow him to stay."

"Sam Winchester is renowned throughout the whole supernatural world," said a sudden voice from the shadows attracting their attention.

"He has averted the Judeo-Christian apocalypse," said the voice as he stepped out of the shadows, "Admittedly that was after he had started it. However, since then he has made up for it by fighting to protect the world from threats none of us could ever imagine. Till today that is."

"Where the hell have you been Nico?!" demanded a member.

"I was busy helping my father with getting the Greek demigods to their proper resting places," Nico replied as he balled his fists, "I lost some friends at Camp Half-Blood, and by the River Styx I swear I'll die before I let that happen here too!"

"How is it you know about the Judeo-Christian stuff," asked another member, after the big reveal about Nico being Greek he was never sure if he could trust Nico again.

"I travel," Nico said bluntly, "You know that. I even met an old hunter, called Bobby Singer, who thought I was some monster till I explained myself to him. He then explained the Judeo-Christian stuff to me. For a hunter… he was actually a good man. I had accidentally found myself in the Judeo-Christian heaven… I guess that means my powers are growing."

"All in favor of allowing Sam to stay and help," Reyna asked.

"You have my vote, Reyna," Nico said as he leaned on a wall, "But I guess you already knew that."

As the rest of the senators spoke up the end result was to allow Sam to stay and defend the camp.

"Preator!" yelled someone as they ran it, "I'm sorry for the intrusion, but the newcomer known as Sam is sick! The Greek Goddess Athena herself said she had to get him to Apollo at once."

"Sam's sick?" Nico frowned before leaving the senate building and hurrying to Sam who was writhing in pain as he had woken up from Athena's godly anesthetic.

"That's no illness," Nico muttered as he felt the presence of a demon, "Did he get possessed during the attack?"

"Nico?" Athena asked as she gently picked Sam up, "Why are you here? Greek demigods usually avoid this place even after their collaboration a while ago."

"Long story," Nico said, "How are you going to get the demon out of Sam?"

"I was hoping Apollo could help," Athena answered.

"Maybe I can help," Nico offered, "As the son of Hades I think I can remove it. All demons are creatures of an underworld after all."

"Not gonna work boy," demon Sam sneered, "You're not strong enough. You're nothing but a weakling!"

"Don't listen to him," Athena said to Nico, "It's not Sam. The demon doesn't want to leave so force him to leave if you can."

"I know," Nico said, "I'm not an idiot. Sam would never talk to anyone like this."

At Athena's confused look Nico explained, "I knew his surrogate father."

Nico then punched his hand into Sam and pulled as hard as he could, but he was forced off which sent him flying. As his hand left Sam's body, there was no evidence it was ever inside.

"It's too strong," Nico said as he groaned while getting to his feet, "We need to take him to my father. That's the only other thing I can think of that might work."

"Are you sure you can't call your father here?" Athena asked, "It might not be a good idea to move him; I don't know how the creature will react to being in the underworld and what it might do to Sam's body."

"Hades rarely ever leaves the underworld," Nico said bluntly, "Only times he does is when he has the right motivation. Usually to hunt someone down who had pissed him off."

"Well at this moment, Asmodeus has managed to threaten all the gods of the underworlds, so I think as soon as he hears of it from Thanatos he would be willing to help."

"How would helping Sam work in favor of taking down this Asmith guy?" Nico asked skeptically.

"Sam knows Asmodeus and knows a few things about that wor. If anyone can take him on, he and his brother can."

"Their angel buddy can help with that," Nico said, "Oh, didn't you know? Castiel is back to life… no idea how he managed that. I felt it happen, and I traced the feeling all the way back to New York City."

"Why does everything converge there?" Athena sighed, "Cas might be able to remove the demon…" Athena had only seen snippets of Cas with her son, but herself doesn't know much about him.

"Maybe," Nico said, "But that doesn't fix our problem. How do we get them to help Sam if Sam can't be moved?"

"Either pray to Cas, or get a pegasus, or I could try to teleport him to Cas once I know where he is," Athena proposed.

"The trace ended at the NYPD," Nico said, "So unless you can bail him out of whatever predicament he is in… we're back to square one."

"I may know a few people who know people in the NYPD," Athena said, "Surely some kind of arrangement can be made."

"Well whatever you do," Nico said, "You might want to put him on some sort of time stasis so the demon won't take over."

Athena nodded. She placed her hand on Sam's forehead, and then Athena said, "It's done."

"I'll go tell Hades of what has happened here," Nico said, "Maybe helping Sam may help him get on Dean's good side."

"What do you mean?" Athena asked in suspicion.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," Nico sighed as he realized his mistake, "But Hades accidentally let slip that Dean's his kid."

"I'm going to have a word with him on that," Athena said narrowing her eyes, "but for now that is advantageous for our situation."

When she looked back at Nico, he was gone, and she was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the final chapter for a while. we're nowhere near finished, but we need a break from the story for now. i figured that bringing the cliche superman thing involving "look. up in the sky! is it a bird? is it a plane?" would fit for the situation that had Hellboy falling down to the Earth below but they could only see a speck in the sky.


End file.
